Just show up
My middle son had a terrible sun burn after apparently spending a good portion of the day shirtless at an amusement park, complete with enormous blisters on his shoulders. Two days later, he had made it through his first day of summer camp, but was adamantly opposed to going to his baseball scrimmage that night because the blisters had begun bursting. I told him he owed it to his team to show up, whether he played or not.
I had called the pediatrician that day for advice on how to treat the burn – after doing too much internet research, I had mixed messages. So when we got home from camp, as the doctor suggested, I gave my son an ibuprofen, had him take off his shirt (which was an agonizing ordeal, complete with much wincing, since he “couldn’t move” his arms), and rest in the recliner in the man cave (our basement where the TV is). I sprayed him with the aloe vera spray I bought on the way home from camp (as opposed to the spray I bought on the way to camp that contained lidocaine, since I imagined that would sting where the blisters had popped), and then put ice packs on his shoulders.
I checked on him a couple of times during the next 45 minutes while I was moving laundry around. I noticed his spirits improve, but am not sure if it was from the pharmaceuticals or the attention. He became more amenable to the idea of putting on his uniform, with the caveat that he remain “on the disabled list.”
I helped him dress. It was difficult to persuade him to do this expeditiously, not only since he had convinced himself he wouldn’t be playing, but also because he was being dramatic, and “couldn’t move” his arms. “You gotta show up, honey. On time.”
We got to the field with just minutes to spare. I bent over and tied his shoes for him (because he “couldn’t move” his arms) and then propelled him in the direction of his team.
As it turned out, he was slated to be the opening pitcher that night.
He made a miraculous recovery. Good thing he showed up.