Stop making sense

To preface this post, let me say that I understand how we got to this point. I really do. I understand liability issues and the litigious nature of our society that brought us to this point. I understand the importance of covering your you-know-what. But there’s got to be a balance. It’s got to make sense

After I wrote yesterday’s post, Process Server, I realized that a story I had been carrying around for a couple of weeks offered a prime example. My daughter recently had minor surgery and, trooper that she is, was ready to go back to school at the first opportunity. Although the doctor had proscribed some stronger pain meds–the kind I had to show my driver’s license and sign my life away to get–three days after the surgery she was pretty comfortable on plain, over-the-counter Tylenol.

I took her to school Monday morning, doing what I thought were all the right things. We arrived early to avoid the dangers of maneuvering with crutches among munchkin hallway crowds. I settled her into her classroom, went over the high points with her teacher, and gave her a quick hug as she shooed me out the door so she could begin her adventure. (That’s pretty much how she views everything.)

On my way out of the school, I stopped by the office to drop off her pain meds (Tylenol) and to set up and sign off her dosage schedule. Easy stuff, so I thought.

The school nurse, however, blanched when she saw the bottle of Tylenol in my hand. “Oh no,” she said. “It has to be Children’s Tylenol. We can’t give her that.”

With mother bear hackles immediately up, I responded, “Oh, yes you can!”

After a tense and emphatic discussion, the nurse ended up agreeing to dispense the Tylenol, as long as my daughter’s doctor would fill out a form approving it. I left the school fuming and headed to the doctor’s office.

This is a case where The Process overruled good judgment. My points are these:

  1. The medicine could be purchased over the counter by anyone, my daughter included.
  2. 72 hours earlier, someone was digging around in my daughter’s foot, sawing bones and inserting pins. Although she was doing really well, it stands to reason that something a bit more potent than Children’s Tylenol would be required to manage her pain.
  3. At 5 feet tall and 113 pounds, my daughter is the size of a small adult.
  4. We were following the doctor’s recommendation, though I’m not sure that should matter as much as #5, below.
  5. I am her mother. I gave written permission for the school to dispense an over-the-counter medication. We’re not talking prescription drugs here.

This is a case of serving the process rather than letting the process serve. It made no sense and left me feeling vilified as a parent. Following the process became more important than exercising sound judgment–judgment that made more sense, in this case, than the process itself. And I had followed the process. I took the medicine to the office, filled out forms, and sign permission slips.

I wonder what would have happened if I had brought my daughter’s Vicodin instead.

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2 thoughts on “Stop making sense

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