Last updated on November 26, 2023
Parenting stress is unlike other stress. Somehow, I manage to think more clearly — or not think — and get things done. I still need my wife to help sometimes, but I manage the basics when our children are involved.
Earlier in the trip, I imagined the most panic I’d experience is pulling the four-year-old out of the five-foot end of a swimming pool. She was overconfident and broke my rule about passing the “3” painted on the walls. I was dealing with her sister, who was also not following rules any better than a normal six-year-old, when I heard the little one splash and call for help. I swam after her, pulled her out, lectured her, and took them both back to the hotel room.
No call to Mommy was needed.
Once we were in the Central Valley, which was hot and polluted from wildfire smoke, the six-year-old had a breathing episode overnight. I assumed it was allergies, gave her some water to drink, and assumed the problem was minor. We went off to Monterey later that day. For the time at the coast, she was fine… but the moment we returned to the Valley, so did her breathing problems.
Saturday morning, about 1:15 a.m., she sat up gasping with purple-blue lips. I decided then that we needed to locate the walk-in clinic. We located one, with help from my sister-in-law, and I was able to get her evaluated. My mother helped with the little one in the lobby.
Because our daughters are foster-to-adopt, I carried a medical consent form, copies of birth certificates, insurance cards, and some information on my phone. I thought I was prepared — right up until I heard, “She has fluid in her lungs. They are sticky and she needs hydration.”
Fluid? In her lungs? My anxiety increased.
“Definitely an allergic reaction to something, too.”
I mentioned she has enlarged tonsils so both the physician’s assistant and aid examined her throat. The tonsils were normal.
The six-year-old has allergies and possibly asthma. She also had fluid in her lungs and was suffering from the polluted air. The physician’s assistant said our daughter could not, for any reason, be outside in the Valley and needed an inhaler every four hours no matter what. I was also told to use the inhaler if we traveled while in-state so the medication would work when we returned to the Valley. Keep her drinking, they reminded me. Not a problem, since I was constantly drinking.
The real challenge wasn’t until we tried to fill the prescriptions to treat the six-year-old’s problem.
Our daughters are foster-to-adopt, with a state insurance plan. It was not accepted by the clinic (owned by a district hospital, not a chain) nor was the insurance accepted by any pharmacy.
The first pharmacy didn’t call to say they weren’t filling the prescription. It was only when I called at noon that they informed me the prescript wasn’t being filled. I said I would pay cash so this wasn’t an issue. Then they called back to say they didn’t have the inhaler or the liquid medication. That is lousy customer service.
I called my wife because she has all the medical information, things I will now always have with me on my phone (such as primary care physician, medical history, et cetera) and asked her to help organize a transfer of the prescription.
We spent a lot of time and energy getting prescriptions to a pharmacy. I paid out-of-pocket, because this is our child and I wanted her to be okay.
If you’re paying out-of-pocket, pharmacies should simply fill the prescription. They should also call if there are any problems processing the prescription. I gave a local number (my cell phone is a California number) and I told them to call me. I even subscribed to the text message services of both pharmacies for updates.
The panics of parenting force you to remain calm in front of a child as your stomach churns. You want everything to be okay and there’s really little you can do sometimes. In this case, the pharmacies were in charge. We had to persuade the pharmacies to help us.
My mother called and my wife called. I was angry and disgusted.
In the end, though, we filled the prescription and the six-year-old did okay.
There was still more parental stress, especially when our flights home were cancelled due to the poor visibility and fire conditions. We managed. I told the girls it wasn’t a big deal and that the worst possible outcome was staying another day somewhere. Of course, I was worried because the medication had run out and we really needed to be out of the Central Valley.
We’re home now and there will be future moments of parental panic. I’ll survive, like millions of other parents do.
My wife handled a lot remotely, as she does too often. This should have been a simple situation: go to pharmacy, pick-up medication. Why was it so difficult, with insurance, to help my child breathe?