The Kaiser Permanente Nurse Advice Line: Talk About a Waste of Time

I can’t believe we’re doing this again.

It’s Thursday morning, about 2 a.m., and our oldest son Matthew is at our bedroom door, unable to sleep because his head hurts and he’s coughing.  He’s also cold, and hot.  And he’s thirsty.  And he wants his pillow flipped.

Matthew has a cold, again, his second in four weeks.

Even the best dad in the world (which I’m not), would be inclined to open one eye, grunt something about the need for the boy to find a cup of water on his nightstand, and kindly but firmly request that his offspring go back to bed.

Unless you’re a paramedic insomniac disco-clubbing teacher’s assistant, post-midnight child-rearing adventure sessions are probably not your bag. Parents, it is thought by non-parents, have superior aptitude in this regard.  That’s a lie. 

Like every other person who works ‘round the clock, we wake up and do what needs to be done, with as sunny a disposition as can be mustered considering the time of day.  Then, in the morning, we complain about the seeming impossibility of the task to our significant other. 

This isn’t so bad.  In fact, it gives my wife and I something to chat about while fixing snack bags and making breakfast. The fun stops, however, when the middle-of-the-night routine lasts far longer than it should. 

We weren’t in fun mode this morning because Matthew is sick and my wife, Tiffany, and me were up a goodly portion of the night dealing with the situation.

Matthew was feeling sick before he went to bed, so we were prepared somewhat for the adventure to come.  We had given him a pain and fever suppressant on top of the asthma medications he takes already.

I’d say we’re pretty skilled, as a family, when it comes to dealing with various colds, allergies, flus and pneumonias, not to mention your garden-variety bumps and bruises. 

And yet it’s still a challenge to make sensible decisions about child safety when you are half asleep. 

Here’s what I mean:  The makers of children’s over the counter medicines are well known to use print, Internet and broadcast ads to spread fear, uncertainty and doubt about the grave health risks facing America’s youth. 

With a pointed finger they seem to be saying, “If you really love your child you will buy our product.”

I’m sufficiently motivated/guilted by these ads and so I buy kids meds for every health issue under the sun. 

We’ve used every brand and product and still to this day I can’t use a single one without second-guessing myself about which product is best, when to use it and how much is safe to administer.  And that’s just the way the manufacturers like it. 

Confusion breeds opportunity, so the less consumers know, the more likely we are to buy their products.  You want proof that pharmaceutical manufacturers are well versed in this theory?  Look no further than the medicine packages themselves. 

Only persons with world-class vision can read the print on medicine bottles, it’s so darned small! 

Manufacturers have taken this approach to the next level by using a variety of similar-sounding measurement terms.  Are we supposed to be measuring teaspoons or tablespoons here?  Is it milliliters or grams? 

And, should we pay more attention to our kids’ ages or weights in determining how much sleepy potion they get?

Don’t even get me started on the skillset that is required to actually open one of these bottles.  Prying open a medicine jug at 2 a.m. is not a talent I was born with or trained for. 

You see, I just want to make my kid feel better.  Is it too much to ask that someone make a medicine bottle with large font and plain operating instructions?  Perhaps a bottle that glows in the dark so I can actually read it when I can’t find the light switch.

Taken as an attempt at humor, I guess you could say that medicine makers are an industry of practical jokers.  I like a good laugh, even when it is at my expense. 

One thing I don’t find funny, though, is the midnight to 6 a.m. advice nurses working for Kaiser Permanente.

This is a curious program, to say the least.  Kaiser has gone out of its way to make supposedly qualified professional staff available when a parent needs help most – the middle of the night, when your pediatrician is tucked comfortably in his or her mansion estate – and yet the quality of service is frighteningly lacking. 

First of all, at 2 a.m. I want to be patched directly through to a nurse, none of this “Enter your card number and select from one of the following options” routine. 

I’m not calling to check the status of my prescription.  I need some help because my sick, crying kid cannot go back to sleep, and neither can the rest of us.  Can someone please pick up the phone immediately, or else provide an automated message relaying how long I can expect to wait for a nurse to answer?

If only getting someone one the phone would solve the problem. 

First I have to explain to the nurse the entire history of my kid’s ailments.  Then I have to answer yes or no to a series of questions, the answers to which are so obvious that clearly I would have said something about them in the first place. 

For example:  “Are your child’s lips blue because he can’t breathe?” 

Likely that would have been my very first statement to the nurse, or, rather, the 911 rep I assuredly would’ve called instead, had it been the case.

Once we get through the question and answer portion of the call, the advice nurse usually mentions a series of home remedies typically appropriate for dealing with coughs, runny noses and the like.  Basically stuff you can learn from watching TV, like breathe steam from hot water to help clear up your sinuses.

Suffice to say this is not the advice I called for. 

What I really want to know is, should we head for the emergency hospital now or wait until the morning to see his pediatrician?  

Though advice nurses can usually offer a hundred and one ways to take a temperature, this is one question they want no part of.  The reason?  There’s too much liability. If the advice nurse says don’t bother coming down right now and something happens to your kid, the healthcare provider is at great financial risk.  

If the advice nurse says come down and it really wasn’t necessary (which it almost always is not), the healthcare provider has wasted resources and their customer is unhappy. 

It makes me wonder what exactly is the point of the advice nurse program?  If I’m being snarky, the point is to beef up the healthcare provider’s marketing pitch.  “You can call us any time, day or night!” 

Parenting is hard enough without having to interpret medicine bottles or quarrel with advice nurses at dark o’clock in the morning.

As a parent what I want are clear instructions, so I don’t have to think much about what to do.  

I think it’s great that large pharmaceutical companies and healthcare providers have found a way to make a living selling products and services to desperate parents.  Really, I do.  I’m sure we’re all better off thinking that something or someone is going to help us.

But, let’s just say, I’m not resting easy.

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