Thursday, February 19, 2015

Valentine's Day

My wife and I are beyond the stage of trying to do something pricey for Valentine's Day, and figured we'd just grab dinner at a small Italian place that's under the radar. Of course, even that didn't happen. As we got ready to go out last Saturday, we realized Frank's coughing and hacking was starting to look like strep throat. So much for dinner.

Since it was Saturday night I took him over to Local Hospital's urgent care. Yep, his throat looked bad. Yep, the rapid screen was positive. The doctor called in Streptokill, and I stopped at 24-Hour Pharmacy to pick it up. Frank stayed in the car to post Instagram photos of his gross-looking pharynx (in retrospect buying him that zoom lens set wasn't a great idea).

The pharmacy is one of the generic box ones you see on every street corner in America. And, I have to say, it's probably the most depressing place in the world to be at 8:45 p.m. on Valentine's day.

In my brief time there I watched as bored employees marked down chocolates to get rid of them (they probably knew my Mom was coming in the morning). A guy ran in, frantically grabbed whatever teddy bear was left in a display, threw money at the cashier, and headed out again.

Another glanced over the few residual sad-looking roses, pulled out the one with the most remaining petals, checked out, and started to leave. In a sudden burst of optimism, he turned around and walked back to get condoms, too.

The pregnant cashier (who'd just returned from her smoking break) was mumbling on her cell phone "he's such an asshole. I'm fucking working tonight so he can stay home and watch TV. No, maybe tomorrow. I have to pick something up at McGrease for him to eat when I get home."

The pharmacist and I knew each other from multiple shared patients, and her area was quiet at the moment. We chatted for a few minutes as she filled Frank's script, commiserating about junkies, crazies, and other denizens of our lives. Then she said she had to get ready for post-Valentine's morning, and went to make sure she had enough Flagyl and Plan B in stock.

On the way out I watched a few more desperate-looking guys run in to buy marked-down chocolates and cards. And, with perfect timing, the generic 80's overhead pop soundtrack played the J. Geils Band's "Love Stinks."

When I got back to the car, Frank had barfed in the back seat.


Kristin said...

Tell him not to stick the camera so far down his throat next time. My kid usually waited to barf until we'd given him a dose of abx. Hope he's feeling better and that he didn't spread it around the house.

Special Sauce said...

My husband and I went to his grandfather's funeral on valentine's day.

I tried putting a positive spin on it. "We'll be dressed up, without our toddler,there will be food,and it'll be emotional. So, LIKE valentine's day!" He wasn't buying it.

As it was, we ended up at Men's Wearhouse 30 minutes before we are supposed to be at the funeral home, because my husband discovered that his funeral/wedding/subpoenad for work suit had mysteriously shrank beyond the bounds of decency.

Mercifully there was no vomit.

James Pookay said...

Sorry to be THAT guy.

I just wanted to throw out there that coughing/hacking reduces the likelihood of a sore throat being GAS positive by the Centor Criteria.

It sounds like his tonsillitis needed to see a doctor anyway though given your description.

Candida Gomez said...

Oh, wow. I hope you and Mrs. Grumpy are able to squeeze in a belated couple of hours together once Frank's fully on the mend.

Moose said...


all over the backseat of the car...

Packer said...

Give your hubby that Valentine's Day Special Gift ----Car Detailing or Made in America Weathertech Floor Liners.

Hmmm, I think I just wrote their newest and best commercial ever. Gotta Go Daddy is calling.

Jono said...

Leave it to Frank to get in the last word (or sound).

Ms. Donna said...

Hope Frank and hair are doing well, and you and Mrs. Grumpy did get a few minutes of "together" time.
However, as a physician, you know that kids are the end result of "together" time, and Frank was only trying (unconsciously) to prevent having another sibling .
I love the Plan B and Flagyl comment from the pharmacist. Stupid in love (or hormones) indeed!

Anonymous said...

...and on the way home, he posted a photo of the back seat on Instagram ?

Anonymous said...

(I just knew that a Valentines' on a Saturday would be too much of a 'good thing'.)

When I was a kid, it was Washington's Birthday when I ended up staying home from school with an earache, tonsillitis, or strep throat. No cherry pie for me. Did your mother ever make maraschino pink cherry cake on Washington's Birthday? Or, a chocolate 'Lincoln' log to celebrate ol' Abe?

cliffintokyo said...

Dr. G: you won my heart a zillion posts ago because of your dedication above and beyond the call of duty.
Being on call on Valentine's must be kid's stuff to you!

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