Mental health days

Tuesday evening had Tommy coming and informing me that he had a headache and that his throat hurt. Perfect segue for the next morning when he could claim illness and earn himself a day off from school. As if I was stupid and never tried that trick before. I give him some Advil and send him off to bed, but not before he is already asking if he can stay home the next day if he still feels sick. Yeah, sure, Tommy. Play your cards early and play them right. I'll totally fall for it.

Wednesday morning Tommy appears at my bedside bright and early claiming illness with the same symptoms from the night before, only worse. Okay, I decide. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll let him stay home. But if he starts acting like he's not sick at all, I will drive him to school myself, no matter what time it is assuming it is not at the end of the school day.

He is interfering with my plans, of course. I had things to do and he wants me to download songs for him and he wants to go outside. "Tommy, you really don't seem sick at all and I'd be more than happy to bring you to school RIGHT NOW," I threaten him more than a dozen times throughout the day.

"No, I'm really sick." That's his story and he's sticking to it.

I pass his teacher that afternoon at school when I am there volunteering for 1st grade computer recess. "Is Tommy sick?" she asks me.

"Well, he is claiming to be, but I think it's more of a mental health day. Headache, sore throat..." I give her the all-knowing look, like we both know Tommy and who could put it past him to feign illness for a couple of days off?

"Well, there is something going around," she says. "I hope he feels better."
Right. When is there ever anything not going around? Besides, he has hardly been acting sick. I have no doubt he'll be in her classroom tomorrow.

Last night, he comes to me with yet another symptom. The headache is so-so and his throat hurts on and off, but now he has this sharp pain in his upper right chest that intensifies when he breathes in. Sometimes he even breathes fast to minimize the pain and get the inhaling exercise overwith.

Okay. He is definitely clever. Already planning for his day off from school the next day. He keeps asking if he can stay home and I keep telling him to ask me how he feels in the morning, that I won't decide at that moment. I also remind him that a little off and on headache and sore throat isn't much to keep him home and even I've gone to work feeling sick and sometimes you just have to go, regardless of how you feel and especially when you are acting healthy and well all day long!

But I cover all my bases. I don't want to be accused of neglect if it turns out to really be something serious and I was so devious as to completely ignore him. So I call my trustworthy nurse, explain his symptoms and ask if I should be concerned. Grammy tells me not to worry, that the pain is most likely associated with a cold or whatever it is he has, but that it's not life threatening and not his gall bladder. And did she ever tell me about the time she took my older sister to the doctor for something and was asked if she realized my sister had pneumonia and had had it for a while? Haha, funny. Okay, I can be not perfect like my mom and live with my mistakes, just like she and countless other mothers have.

Like yesterday morning, he again is at my bedside bright and early today. I tell him I am not surprised he doesn't feel well, because you always feel worse in the morning and at night, but he insists he really doesn't feel well enough to go to school, and did I want him to spend all day in the nurse's office? Because that is what he would do if he had to go.. "Fine." I give in. I don't care. "But you are definitely going on Friday, so you'd better not expect to go out again today and you'd better rest if you are really as sick as you claim to be."

Tommy came to me later this morning with an update. Now, not only was he having pain in his upper right chest, but it was radiating towards the center off and on. Oh, good grief. Of course, all this time he is hardly acting sick and insisted that he did NOT want to go to the doctor.

So I call the doctor. I suppose I can no longer ignore the symptoms, even if I do think they are exaggerated and he is just working towards the final day off from school and a long weekend to boot. Plus he doesn't want to go, and I'll be damned if he's going to enjoy these days off from school. Let's see how sick you really are, Tommy boy.

At the doctor's office, with Joey, Jeffrey and Jack (a friend's son) in tow, the doctor looks in his ears, his mouth, and listens to his chest. "Well, the good news is that you don't have strep," she says. The bad news is you have pneumonia."

Pneumonia? Are you kidding me? I can't even have the satisfaction of showing him I was so on to his game and that he lost and he'd be going to school the next day. But I did get his work from school, just a small favor I am passing onto him so he isn't inundated next week with so much make up work. He's just thrilled to death. I think I'll go give it to him now with his dose of medicine.