In her short life, Sera has also sustained multiple minor injuries, mostly scrapes and bumps. A few months ago, Sera and I were walking onto the back porch. I turned for a second to close the door behind me. Sera (who has walked down the steps of our back porch countless times) took a step back and realized that her foot was not making contact with any concrete. Down she went. I reached to catch her, but I was too late. I felt like I saw her fall down three concrete steps in slow-motion and I was too slow to catch her. I immediately rushed to her side and she was understandably screaming. I scooped her up and took her inside. We hugged and cuddled until she stopped crying. She continued sniffling while I examined her. Remarkably, the only injury she had was a little scape on her right nostril. I cleaned the wound, realizing that this was my first bleeding Sera boo-boo to treat and it wasn't even Band-Aid-able (and we have some cool Band-Aids). So, I put some ointment on it and told Sera the medicine would make her feel better. The next day, she asked for her "medishin" again. Her nose still looked pretty red, so I obliged. But then weeks later, Sera pointed to the tube of ointment and demanded "medishin nose." When I tried to put the tube out of view, she jumped up and down and cried.
Since then, Sera periodically tells me that she needs her "medishin." We've only legitimately used it one more time when she tripped as we chased each other on the front porch (I'll explain my use of the word "legitimate" later). Occasionally, Sera comes to me with random pains. One day, it was "arm hurt" and then "belly hurt." Each time, I became concerned, gave her a thorough look-over, and sometimes took her temperature and she was perfectly healthy. She then came to me with "body hurt" complaints. One day she pointed to a random spot on her arm and said, "Hurt arm." Just to be silly, I uncapped the ointment and without squeezing it, gently tapped the tube to her arm. No actual ointment used, but Sera was satisfied. Then she pointed to her elbow. "Elbow hurt." More ointment charades. Then another random spot on her other arm. "Arm hurt." Ointment charades. "This hand." Ointment charades.
She has since learned the analgesic effect of mommy kisses. If she bumps her head or drops something on her foot, she will run to me and ask, "Mommy kiss make better?" I have had a hard time explaining that it was not really appropriate nor sanitary to give healing mommy kisses if she bites the inside of her mouth. For those, I "make better" by blowing a kiss in her direction. I will admit that I do feel a bit defeated when she still asks for her "medishin" because "this arm hurt." In Sera's world, mommy kisses do not cure all. Some things only "medishin" can cure. Realism is no fun in a toddler.
Sera has had her fair share of colds, along with RSV and pneumonia. Starting in the late winter, we noticed that she began to have these recurrent runny noses and coughs that would wake her at night. We frequently checked her temperature and she never had a fever. Some nights, her only relief was a familiar routine of a tilted mattress, a steam in the bathroom, a humidifer, and Baby Vapo-rub on her feet. Every morning, we'd have to "decrust her" by trying to wipe off the dried snot from under her nose. We actually bought Boogie Wipes in bulk (a steal at Sam's, if you were wondering). She would have coughing and sneezing fits during the day. One day, she had a coughing fit on the playground at day care and one of her teachers took her inside, where Sera stopped coughing. My kid just became that kid who is too sick for recess. It was that day when it clicked for me. Since 1997, I have been very familiar with "seasonal" (AKA yearlong) allergies. I now recognized it with Sera. (Plus, Sera has two risk factors for allergies and asthma: Eczema and a history of RSV infection).
I decided to try her on toddler Zyrtec and purchased a bottle of grape-flavored syrup (since Sera is crazily obsessed with grapes). She appeared weary with the first dose and accepting with the second dose. It seemed to help. Runny noses became less runny. Coughing became singular, rather than in fits. But then Sera's acceptance of her new "medishin" shifted. She was no longer just accepting of it. She enjoyed it. I would give her the 1/2 teaspoon dose and drop the syringe in the sink. She would then sign and say, "More. More medishin." I tried to explain that she could not have more, which caused a tantrum. Realism in a toddler would have been fine here. I had to leave the Zyrtec bottle out of reach, but still in an obvious location so that I could remember to administer it. But I then had to hide the bottle away because Sera kept reaching for it and crying when we passed it.
One day at day care, Sera became a little fussy and lethargic. They checked her temperature, which was 99. Not enough to call me, but enough to monitor. So, they checked her temperature throughout the day. Sera then asked to have her "temper" checked repeatedly when she got home. She pulled the ear thermometer out of the drawer and demanded that I check her "temper." I obliged and would tell her she's "good." Then she would remind me that I need to be thorough. "Other ear." I eventually moved the thermometer because she was constantly playing with it (and dropping it).
Aunt Renny joked that Sera was a "hypochondriac." I'm sure I could continue the charade and give her juice in a syringe (honestly, I think she's smart enough to know the difference) or fake the "temper," but that would only enable her hypochondriasis. The psychologist in me wondered how you treat hypochondriasis in a toddler. Last week, it dawned on me. We divert the energy. If she's going to obsess over "medishin" and "temper," maybe I could get her to focus that energy and interest on someone/something other than her. So we went to Target and picked up a toy medical kit. We sat down with her Cabbage Patch doll, opened the kit, and I explained what the different tools and instruments did. I demonstrated how the bandages were wrapped and how to administer a shot. It seemed to work. Sera's attention was captured by this medical kit. She carried her little pink stethoscope with her everywhere and was checking my "temper," Craig's, the doll's, and random stuffed animals' to ensure no one had a fever.
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