Harp-Face Mushroom-Mouth Worm-Butt Drooly Puzey

Of course Harper had to wait until we moved an hour away from the closest doctor to get sick for the first time. And just to give a little perspective on how remote our new abode is, yesterday a man came a knocking on our door to take appointments for the dentist who is 'coming to town' next week. I guess the Costa Rican government gives subsidies to dentists who come from the 'big city' to work on the teeth of us country folk. Yes, I made an appointment. Well, all that to prove that we live quite a ways away from any medical care at all. That's why when a feverish Harper projectile-vomited all over me and a friend's couch a couple of nights ago, I started to worry. (Hypochondriac mom syndrome. Yes, I have a lot of mom syndromes.) Our neighbor friends tried to reassure us that the exorbitant amount of puke was a result of teething, however I decided against the theory when she threw up again once we arrived at home a half hour later. Luckily our landlord (who happens to be the owner of the couch Harper blessed with her cereal-fruit-and-vegetable montage) happens to be the nicest man in the world, and offered to drive us to a doctor's appointment the next day in the nearest town (1hr away).

When the doctor examined the uncharicteristically lethargic and whiny Harper, he found a vast array of white spots in her mouth and on her tongue. 'Ella tiene hongos en la boca', he said, which literally means 'she has mushrooms in her mouth'. "Mushrooms??? But she's never even eaten mushrooms before. That's not on the Gerber baby food nutrition list!" I thought as I pondered the ways in which one would acquire mushrooms in the mouth, and how such a strange mouth harvest would result in projectile vomit. (The aforementioned proves that a master's degree does not equal common sense). Luckily Rivers noted my nonverbal confusion and whispered 'fungus. She has a fungus in her mouth.' Ah yes, that made much more sense.

After the doctor gave us a confusing list of what may-or-may-not be wrong with our lil babe (because mushrooms-in-the-mouth does not usually elicit projectile puke), he told us to go home, and if she still had a fever in 2 days we should come back. Hmm...pretty inconclusive I'd say. Nonetheless we re-diapered our fussy girl and began walking out of the office when all of a sudden...Puke Power once more, this time all over Dr. Indecisive's floor. When the Doc observed the volume and velocity of vomit, he quickly changed his mind about his prior ambiguous diagnosis and told us that we should go to the hospital for observation and rehydration. 'It could be meningitus' he suggested, which I think is the last thing young parents - or any parents- want to hear.

So on to the next medical facility we went. When we entered the doors of the public hospital, there was a long line of visibly sick people waiting to be tended to, surrounded by a hallway full of visibly sick people currently being tended to all in the same room. To the right was another small room whose walls were lined with tiny hooks, each one holding up an IV bag which ultimately led into some poor, exposed patient's vein. I can only imagine the awckward conversations that ensue in that sad little quadrant... "Hey, whatcha got in there? Aw, morphine?! Lucky! Nah, mine's just saliene..." So despite my avid support for universal health care, this display of medical chaos was not what I was used to, even coming from Canada. After waiting in line for about 20 minutes, we decided to splurge (via my dear mum's credit card) on a private clinic. As we were leaving the dismal medical building, Harper started dry-heaving, which really got me going. I raced to the nearest taxi and yelled at the driver (in broken, desperate Spanish) to take us to the nearest private clinic. On the way there, Harper was literally lifeless in my arms. "She's losing consciousness!" I screamed in panic as we approached the doors of the next medical building. This proved to be a correct statement. Harper was losing consciousness, but in the form of a somewhat peaceful sleep. However at the time, I was sure she was slipping away to the hands of meningitus, so I ran into the private clinic only to find a total of 0 pediatricians on staff. WTF?

On to the next hospital we went.

When we arrived at Hospital Labrador, we were met by a calm and smiling pediatrician, which at the time aggrivated me furvently. How could he be so calm when my daughter was obviously on the cusp of death? However I soon recognized my overreaction when I laid Harper down on the examination table and watched as she tried with all her might to catch the stuffed toy on the doctor's stethescope with her little feet. Maybe she wasn't dying after all...

Despite Harper's obvious recovery, the doctor suggested that we spend the night in the hospital for observation and rehydration. Because we live so far away, the doctor was afraid that if she kept throwing up, she could quickly dehydrate, leaving us with little time to get her to a hospital. So they admitted lil sweet babe Harper into the building, strapped her down, and put an IV in her fat little arm. Sucky. Watching her writhe in pain was horrible, but the nurse was great and found a vein on the first try. Unfortunately said vein ruptured, so I pleaded with the doctor to let me give Harper a bottle, and if she vomitted again, they could retry the IV. So I fed Harper, and she fell into a peaceful sleep. By the way, this whole time Rivers had to take the hour-long trip back home because I had forgotten the credit card. When he returned, and after going out into the night to find me a hamburger and fries (what a great husband), we were transfered into a private room with a TV and airconditioning. Harper slept through the night and woke up with a smile on her face, visibly healthy and happy. After the doc came to do a follow-up check, he gave us a perscription for mushroom mouth and let us leave. As we were on our way out, the nurses joked that we hoped we enjoyed our stay at the Labrador Hotel. Luckily overnight ER stays at private hospitals in Costa Rica are cheaper than most hotels. The night in a private room + 2 doctor consultations cost $250 without insurance. Yeah, universal health care. You redeemed yourself.

So we went home with a healthy, happy Harper. The next morning I found worms in her poop, which is so common here that everyone takes anti parasite medication every 3 years. Take that, Dr. Meningitus. You really know how to toy with a young mother's emotions, don't you? Well, you succeeded. But just so you know, next time Rivers sees you, he's gonna punch you square in the femur. Why the femur? Just because it'll confuse you.