Sophie has the croupe. Damned docs don’t know squat: not contagious my ass. I spent much of last night, from midnight to about 4:00AM, trying to get ahold of the advice nurse in Portland (taking advantage of the time difference). The problem is, that I have no cell service. Kira had told me that I could find the number of the house where we’re staying on a slip of paper on the end table in the living room. I’m sure she was right, but there were about six numbers on slips of paper on the end table in the living room. I started by calling them to see if I got a busy signal, hanging up if not. Apparently, one of them was Bob and Bev’s place down the street. It rang; I didn’t wait for an answer and hung up. 10 minutes later, Bob shows up at the door in the pouring rain, thinking something terrible was happening. He didn’t have our number either, so he just came over at about 3:00 in the morning. Kristin is a night owl; she was up, and so was Richard (husband of Meg’s half-sister). So there we are, staring at the phone, waiting for a callback.
The doc was great when we finally talked to her. They gave us some ideas on how to take care of this. We’re doing steambaths and Motrin to break up the congestion and help the fever, but mostly, we just have to wait it out. I think it’s far worse for Kira and me than it is for Sophie. She sounds like a tractor.