Logan has strep. Again.
His last bout was a mere four weeks ago.
This marks his eighth infection with strep in 18 months--his fourth round that has been accompanied by scarlet fever as well. Our medical provider has had him run the gauntlet of medical wünderdrugs, from amoxicillian to cefadroxil to Keflex to some particularly nasty thing starting with an "o." He has gargled, chewed gum with Xylitol and dealt with my constant monitoring of the condition of his tonsils with flashlights. We have been waging a war in this household ... and strep is the enemy.
Just for jollies, at his 5 year check up today, I asked the family practice nurse we see to do a test and see if it was back. He'd complained of his throat hurting and had had a sandpapery red rash on his stomach since yesterday afternoon. Knowing his history (and being an excellent health care provider in general), she obliged.
When confronted with yet another positive result, I admit it: I officially gave up. Logan is going to an ENT in two weeks, and I've been dreading it. Been thinking up all the things I can think of to justify why this kid needs to keep his tonsils. I mean, God put them there, right? They are a functioning part of his immune system. They shouldn't just be altered for convenience or our lack of patience or ....
Nevermind. I give up.
Nothing I can say is worth putting my son through this every six weeks. If taking his tonsils out is wrong, then let me be the guilty party. If he wants to be angry down the road that we rushed to have part of his body hacked out, so be it. Right now, I just can't take looking at the bags under his eyes anymore and wondering if it's strep again, or picking up on behavioral cues and trying to discern whether it's attitude or sickness. I can't see him walking around thinking it's normal for your throat to hurt all the time.
So I give up. Time for the surgeons to do their thing, because clearly, it's not something a mommy can cure.