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In elementary school and college, I would envy my friends who were huddled in their warm, fluffy bed as they were recovering from a cough, virus, or suspicious disease of "getting out of bed." 'a test". Within a kilometer of distance, I sat at my cold classroom desk with the boiling wood seat. As the daughter of a pediatrician who always seemed to heal my brothers and sisters in the morning, I have rarely missed a day of school. Only when I had my own children and was able to use her own techniques to keep them healthy, I appreciated the habits my father had passed on.
To each his cup. My father's doctor's office was often full of families who spread colds, coughs and flu just by drinking in the same glass. He asked little for my siblings and me, but the ban on sharing a cup was not negotiable. He gave the same advice to the parents of his patients. "Some germs may not affect you," he told them, "but they can affect others." Some people listened. Others ignored his recommendation and soon found themselves carrying all their infected brood into his office to heal him.
Taking into account my father's rule, I gave my two young sons goblets of different colors to drink in order to eliminate confusion. My sons did not hesitate to share their books and toys with friends, but they understood that it was forbidden to share a drink. The two boys were rarely sick and if one or the other caught a cold or a stomach virus, it was never at the same time.
Take what you want, eat what you can. My father did not believe he was forcing children to eat. There have been no episodes of "end of the liver" of my "darling mom" at home. My mother placed the food on the table, then we used it and finished what we could. When anxious parents complained to my father about a temperamental child, he added, "Include at least one food they like at each meal or let them make a sandwich." He assured them that their child would not starve.
One of my sons was harder to eat than the other, but meals were not usually a battle. If they did not finish what was on their plate, nobody would put them there. Most of our meals were simple – I was not a gourmet cook – yet, as my sons grew up, their range of acceptable foods increased. Last year, when I received a text saying "I love salmon now!", I had to check that it belonged to one of the my sons.
Do not ban treats. My father has always encouraged parents to offer healthy snacks to their children, but also to allow occasional treats. "If you take your child out of treats, he will tell them, they will ask him more or find them elsewhere." My parents kept on our kitchen table a large ceramic bowl topped with fruits, while at least one shelf held our most desired chocolate treats from the host families or Little Debbie. The cream-filled chocolate snacks were readily available, but my siblings and I did not take advantage of anything because our favorites were neither restricted nor hidden.
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Following my childhood, I kept the fruit in a bowl on the table and ordered the fries, cookies and snacks on hand in the pantry. My little boys did not understand the fascination of their friends for the accumulation of forbidden fruits or the baked fries they were looking for each time they visited our house. A few minutes after crossing our door, they headed straight for the pantry. My sons, my brothers and sisters and I did not eat unhealthy snacks because they always had access to it.
Get vaccinated against the flu. As categorical as my father was about not to share a drink, he was even more persistent in recommending the flu vaccine. "The vaccine is not 100%," he explained to his patients' parents, "but it could minimize the symptoms of the flu and potentially prevent further complications." Until we were old enough to drive ourselves, my mother drove us to my father's office every year, where the dreaded "bullet nurse" wiped our arms with an alcohol swab and administered the influenza vaccine. My father's recommendation is still valid. The US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported 183 influenza-related child deaths in the 2017-2018 season, of which approximately 80% occurred in unvaccinated children.
One of the times I took my to-toddler sons to get vaccinated against the flu was particularly stressful and emotional, mainly for me. My eldest son went up on the exam table and voluntarily reached out to the nurse. Behind him, my youngest son repeatedly shouted, "I do not want a shot!" He stood up with his arms crossed and protested until his brother jumped off the table saying, "It did not hurt me. – and my promise to visit the toy store on the way home – helped her brother to calm down. Every September, I ask my sons, now grown-ups, that they've received their flu shots, usually an hour after my dad called me to ask me if I had mine.
Be ready. Even though he was not a Scout, my father held adhesive bandages, ointment, eye drops, and other basic supplies for first aid in the narrow closet.
While my sons no longer run through boxes of bandages, I continue to follow in my father's footsteps and keep the mosquito lotion, pain relievers and allergy medications, among other things, in a container hidden in a kitchen cabinet. I too want to be prepared. I also want to avoid looking for a pharmacy open 24/24 at midnight.
My father, now 92, retired four years ago. He continues to nurture his deep love for medicine with articles that he finds online and in medical journals stacked in a basket near his reading chair. He particularly likes to discuss the latest research and clinical discoveries with my youngest, who will start medical school in one year. I imagine that when my son will have his own children, they will complain about their (near) perfect attendance record and blame their doctor father for being able to cure them overnight.
I will be disappointed if they do not do it.
Lisa Kanarek is an independent writer, essayist and author of five books on homework. She lives with her husband in Texas, where they have six children. Find her on Twitter @ LisaKanarek.
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