As I mentioned in my last post, Jessica met up with an insurgent refrigerator door the night before our weekend trip to CT, landing her in the ER. Seven stitches later, we were on our way to visit the family, fully planning to take take all those family photos with Jessica turned to the left in order to show her uninjured side.
We did not count on the amount of effort it would take to get penicillin in her.
We were told Jessica would need to take penicillin as a preventative to ward off infection. After the first dose, she decided we should get that crap out of her face and that she would have no part of this exercise. It was all we could do to get the stuff in her, even after trying different utensils (spoon, syringe, cup, fire hose), different forms of bribery (M&Ms, stuffed animals, sparing of her future first-born), and different strategies (sneak attack, pro wrestler, improvised explosive device). We received all sorts of advice, solicited or not. "Hold her nose! Squeeze her cheeks! Offer her a bribe!" Let me tell you there is NOTHING that will make her take this short of an IV needle if she doesn't want to. At one point while sitting on the end of a banquet table with her in my lap in a full headlock, she managed to get a foot in between my legs and down on the table. Then with a leg press worthy of a Schwarzenegger, she pushed upward, almost collapsing the table and flipping me over. Damn, she's a brute.
Last night at dinner she informed us that she didn't want her stitches removed, because she didn't want to go back to the hospital. I was informed this afternoon that our doctor refused to take her stitches out for fear he would hurt her due to her thrashing. Tomorrow morning I get to take her to Childrens' Hospital for sedation and a rubber suit with the sleeves in the back.
On second thought, maybe she can wear the suit and I'll take the sedation.