No, it's not what you think. Sickos.
Meg has had a snotty nose since January 3rd. I know the day it started, because that is the day we all ended our holiday vacation bliss. The first day Meg was back at daycare she greeted me with a booger filled nose when I picked her up. Her first post-break gym and music classes just multiplied the problem. By the end of that week Ryan and I were armed with tissues at all times, all three of our bulb aspirators were continually in the dishwasher, we had bought enough Vicks products to have stock in the company, and Meg looked like she was sporting a bright red mustache because of all the wiping. We figured once all of the germs were once again acquainted with her body, the snot would stop.
We were wrong.
We went to the doctor. She said Meg just had a snotty nose.
Things continued to get worse and worse, despite our growing arsenal of defenses. In addition to the vapor rub, we added vapor baths and vapor steam at night. We started wiping hands and everything else down with sanitizer at every opportunity. We stopped using normal tissues for lotion ones, and began slathering Meg's face in Aquaphor so the skin would not end up peeling off.
I took Meg back to the doctor yesterday. The other parents in the waiting room looked at me like I had brought really gross napalm in the room. I understood, but having wiped her nose 3 seconds before, and knowing I was going to have to do it three seconds later, I figured they could cut me some slack.
This time the doctor had answers: Meg had an ear infection, as well as a mild case of bronchiolitis. She needed antibiotics, and a trip to the "suction shack." It took everything I had in me not to ask why she wanted me to take Meg to a gay bar. She got the last laugh though when she told me what it really was, and that I was going to have to take my baby -- MY BABY -- to the hospital to have her nose and chest sucked out.
I'm not even going to go into the panic I suffered in the next 24 hours. I worried about how it could scar her psychically if we did it, and that it could lead to pneumonia if we didn't. I called everyone we know to get a second opinion, and my Mom to get her opinions on all the opinions. I monitored everything coming out of Meg's nose, hoping it was decreasing. Then I noticed that while I focused on my suffering, I had forgotten about Meg's -- and the fact she needed this to end -- NOW. I called and made the appointment. Ryan, worried I might pas out, or punch someone, said he would meet us there.
Honestly, the worst part of the "suction shack" was the stupid sign on the door. Apparently "outpatient respiratory therapy" isn't cute enough, so handmade sign with it's nickname and a picture of a "Gilligan's Island" house adorns the door. I was not amused.
The treatment itself was really quick. A tube up the nose, suction, and done. Meg wasn't pleased, of course, but no more upset than when we use the bulb aspirator. The stuff that came out of her was really impressive. I mean, if you are into that kind of stuff.
Oh, and now? She can breathe. We've only wiped her nose once since then.
I don't know if I'm ready to give up the Vicks, though. I've really started liking the smell.