When did I become the least qualified person to treat my kid?

It's been a while since the Cranky Pants have been worn around here. Actually that's not true, I wear them around the house constantly, it's just I don't share it all that often.

But the other night something so infuriating happened that I've been walking around with the proverbial steam coming out of my ears since. Unable to let it go. What, me? Hold a grudge? Never!

If you've been playing along at home you'd know that The Trickster is asthmatic. He doesn't get it very often, but when he does, it's quite bad. Last year he had one ambulance ride and three hospitalizations in four weeks which was a lovely baptism of fire in to what it's like to be an asthma parent.

A fortnight ago we had another ambulance ride because he went downhill insanely fast. I'm talking making it to two hours between Ventolins and then all of a sudden needing another dose after only ten minutes. That's when they send out the quick response ambulance car because it can get there four minutes faster. It's also where you absolutely should be wearing brown underwear.

On Sunday morning Tricky started showing the first signs of a cold followed really quickly by asthma. Here we go again. We're getting quite used to it all so we followed our 'Action Plan' to the letter. By early afternoon he was already struggling and requiring six puffs of Ventolin every three hours so to try and prevent a late night trip to the emergency room we called the GP locum service.

The GP got there after 7pm and examined Tricks (who had just had more Ventolin 15 minutes prior). Despite being told his history of ambulance rides, despite the raging temperature, despite the face streaming with snot and despite the fact that he was now on two hourly Ventolins he was declared "not sick enough" for Prednisone.

(If you've never had anything to do with asthma, Prednisone is a steroid and Tricky responds really well to it. He'll go from needing to be on oxygen and in hospital to discharge within 24 hours of his first dose.)

Gee thanks Dr Fuckwit. All I was asking for was a script for a readily available drug. I wasn't asking for morphine, I wasn't even asking for you to supply the drugs, merely scribble on a piece of paper with your atrocious writing so that I could then go and get some, give it to my kid and avoid the stress of another night wondering if it was time to call the ambulance yet. You know, it's YOUR JOB as a locum to get us to avoid the hospital... so WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!

I might not have a fancy framed degree hanging on the wall, but I know my own kid and I know his asthma. Hell, I've had it for 30 years so I've got a bit of experience with it, too. I know how he responds and I know what makes him better. But what would I know? I'm only the mother *grumble grumble*.

I am so tired of being treated like a moron just because I don't have a medical degree. You?