The Military Curse Part Deux: The Fun Continues.

“Baby, you’re sick. Go to the doctor!” My husband’s words were concerned, but strict.

Was he kidding? Does he not remember the whole, we-have-six-kids thing? And even when the oldest four are in school, I’m left to take the two toddlers to the hospital to contend with, all by myself, all while feeling craptastic. No, thank you.

I would consider it if it were worth going any more, but it’s not. Military doctors used to tell us “If the fever lasts more than 24 hours, come in.” We would be seen, thoroughly, have a prescription written, and onwards home we went, to begin feeling better sooner than later. Now, their new favorite line is “It’s just a virus.” Regardless of how long the fever’s lasted or how sick we are, we’re slapped on the wrist for being “silly worriers” and sent off our merry way told to medicate with good ol’ ibuprofen and to drink plenty of fluids. Why the heck would I waste my time going there for some silly virus and to be made fun of?

Let’s not forget what it’s like getting the brush-off by docs while bringing small children, who think all the knobs and buttons to push, along with medical instruments and the spinny doctor’s chair are awesomely fun. Who opencloseopenclose the doctor’s drawers, punch on his keyboard, try knocking over his jar of humongous Q-tip swab thingies and torturous tongue depressors.

“No, babe. I’ll be fine, I’m just going to stick it out at home. If I get worse, then I’ll go in.”

He grumbled and bemoaned my choice, but agreed—knowing I was already having a hard enough time without him. Unfortunately for me, I did have to go in the next day. And because the Military Curse Gods were smiling down at me, they had to add a powerful antibiotic to the mix. One that knocked me sideways to kill the infection. Because raising six kids alone while hubby’s away wasn’t hard enough already.



About Lisa D.

Once upon a time, Lisa was born and raised in New York, a land where there was a corner deli, Italian restaurant, and Dunkin Donuts with delicious coffee on every corner. And, despite horrific traffic, accents and expletives a-plenty, life seemed to make sense. Enter an Army husband, six kids (b. 1995, 1999, 2000, 2004, 2007 and 2008) and three states later, her family of eight are living the military life in the (very) deep south far from anything familiar, let alone making sense. Once a business management major, Lisa now uses her management skills to keep soccer practices, doctors appointments and juggling six kids' schedules in order, all while trying to cram their big family into small Army housing. You can find her regularly McGyvering things back together using shoelaces and bubble gum with a breastfed baby on her hip, all while baking from scratch and pretending her hair color isn't from a bottle. She finds sanity in gardening, baking cookies, working out so she can eat bake more cookies, playing with her family, and writing about her parenting (mis)adventures. Lisa can also be found at seeking sanity in the bottom of her coffee cup.

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