The Well-Packed Travel Medicine Kit
We are standing in a Barcelona farmacia, relieved to have finally found one that is open during siesta hours. The pharmacist is squinting at the fine print on a container of children’s fever reducer as my husband uses his Blackberry to try to convert our son’s weight from pounds to kilograms.
“You’ll need forty drops of this,” the pharmacist says finally, handing me a bottle of red liquid. ”
“Forty?” I repeat incredulously.
“Yes,” he replies, squinting at the package insert again a bit uncertainly. “Four zero.”
I shake my head. There is no way that I am giving my child 40 drops of a medication that has warning labels I cannot even read. “What are our other options,” I ask. “Surely Spanish 3-year-olds do not take 40 drops of this medication for every fever.”
He shrugs, pulls out a box of adult medication. “You could break one of these tablets in half and maybe grind it up…”
*
I am no fool. I never travel without basic medical supplies. A thermometer, a fever reducer, an inhaler and plenty of band aids form the backbone of our family’s travel medicine kit. Depending on where and when we’re traveling, the bag often contains other items too: aloe if we’re beach bound, throat lozenges if someone’s already complaining of a sore throat.
My kit has evolved over the years. I started throwing in Pedialyte packets after a bad run of tummy bugs. A battery operated nebulizer made the cut for a while during a rough asthma patch. I even switched to all chewable meds after a friend shared a funny-only-in-hindsight story about breaking a bottle of Children’s Tylenol in a hotel bathroom at 4am and weeping as her child’s salvation oozed down the drain. I am nothing if not prepared.
So why, then, was I at the mercy of a kind but potentially clueless Spanish pharmacist?
Yeah. About that. It turns out that there is more to a travel medicine kit than the bottles it contains. A truly wise packer actually checks how much medicine is in the bottles she is packing. A not-so-wise packer finds herself in Barcelona with a feverish kid, a grand total of two Motrin doses and a serious language gap.
In the end, I could not bring myself to measure out 40 drops of a mystery medication, nor did the possibility of accidentally overdosing our 3-year-old make the ground up pills sound like an acceptable alternative. We bought the adult tablets to be polite, then relied on tepid baths and other non-pharmaceutical approaches to fever remediation for the remainder of our time in Barcelona.
But as soon as we got home, I refilled that Motrin bottle to overflowing, and I’ve never again gone on a vacation without first checking its contents. I’ve learned my lesson. When it comes to the travel medicine kit, it’s not what you pack that matters, apparently; it’s how much you pack. Consider yourself duly warned.
Barcelona Farmacia photo courtesy of Richie D.
October 15th, 2008 | by Rebecca Tompkins 10 comments
It took me ages but I am here!! and you are now on my RSS feed. sorry for the delay!
What a great idea. What else is in your kit?
In Paris we were were struck by raging teething and ran out of our acetaminophen drops for our daughter. The pharmacist helped us out, but thankfully not with a 40-drop dosage! We thought the French were rather clever with a measuring medicine spoon for the drug that measures by your child’s weight rather than attempting guesses by age. Pretty straightforward–as long as you know your child’s weight in kilos!
Wow. Do you know in our going on 3 years traveling the world, we have yet to even use our first aid kid except a few band aids to keep kidlet from scratching mosquito bites? We do not even have much in the kit.
We have actually found pharmacys, doctors, dentists, hospitals sooo much better and less expensive than in America. Most of the time it has been free and first class!
Of course, we also believe fevers are a good thing for kids just like my favorite Pediatrician, Dr M who wrote “How to Raise a Healthy Child in Spite of Your Doctor”. We do carry his book with us! ;)
I would not worry so much, traveling in the first world is not as scary as some think.
And make sure you know the 911 number for the country you are in too. When hot coffee spilled on my child’s neck in London I realized that although I knew where the hospital was I had no way to get my toddler there and had to call 999 for an ambulance.
(And I did not know his weight in kilos or the fact that paracetemol is just another word for acetominophen).
I’m not paranoid but I think that this post contains good advice – be like a Boy Scout.
There is nothing scarier than having a sick kid and being far from home. We had a mystery affliction this summer with my 6-year-old: bright red fingertips.
Naturally I diagnosed him with some freakish blood infection (and totally panicked) before I realized he had been running his fingers along every rough stucco wall in Andalusia as he walked by, and then marinating himself in a swimming pool for 3 hours.
Sigh.
That’s sad. That’s why I always bring extra medications for the kids.
Even their vitamins, too.
I like your battery powered nebulizer, I’ve had to tote my plug in type along on car trips (and I have been even known to pack an air purifier), because of horrible allergies and my son’s croupy, asthmatic attacks when he was younger. It’s a huge pain, but sometimes necessary. Still, there is no glamorous way to lug your air purifier into the hotel. Luckily, I have no shame.
Nomadic Matt – welcome!
Jessiev – the kit’s pretty light these days because we’ve been traveling domestically, but I’m always open to new suggestions!
Shelly – I love the idea of a medicine spoon that takes the guesswork out of dosages! Wish it were available here…
Soultravelers3 – I’m jealous that you’ve never used your kit… my kids seem to see an airplane and instantly develop some sort of bug!
Mara – good point! I definitely haven’t known how to call for emergency services in most of the countries I’ve visited. Guess I’ve been lucky never to need it! Hot coffee burns sound awful… hope the NHS treated you well.
Jamie – totally laughing at the freakish blood condition diagnosis. That stucco’s toxic stuff. :)
Jenny – I think you have just shamed me into packing vitamins for our next trip!
Carolina – I have far too many hideous memories of plugging nebulizers into random plugs at rest stops. Power is surprisingly (and maddeningly) hard to find in the roadside bathrooms of the world.
Wow. I don’t even have a First Aid kit. Thanks for inspiring me put one together!









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