Daily Archives: June 13, 2011
Today was my daughter’s doctor’s appointment. Just the regular well visit and nothing special. I tried to prepare her by talking to her about the doctor. I tried to talk to her about what he’s going to do. I tried to explain how quick it will be and how awesome it will be when she gets a new sticker. At home, it looked like everything sunk in. It looked like we were going to have a good day at the doctor.
Then we walk into the waiting room. The only thing I was thinking was that GOD it was empty. If her doctor wanted to lose patients, all he has to do is have people in the waiting room while he’s seeing her.
Her bottom lip pouts out first. Then her eyes gets watery; we haven’t even gone to a room yet. Once we reach the room, the strength of this littler girl reached maximum capacity. If I wasn’t used to her and her clingy ways, I would swear it would take 3 men to pry her off of me.
I’m not sure what’s the hardest thing that the doctor has to do, weigh her or take her height, but from her soul curling scream of dismay (I guess getting weighed is heck for a child), the real fun began. Checking the eyes and ears are my favorite parts. While I’m keeping her hands on the table that is supposed to keep her from sitting up, she does just that– sits up.
All I could think about was some horror film where some creature is raised from the dead; screaming and sitting up at the same time. I’m glad I didn’t server her split pea soup for lunch.
With the easy stuff out of the way, the doctor leaves the room. I know what’s coming, but I don’t have the heart to break it to her. How can tell her that a needle is coming and it has her name on it? I don’t. I relish the quiet in the eye of the storm. My daughter thinks that she’s done. She stops crying for a moment, and I’m telling her sweet nothings while I get her clothes back on; preparing to make a swift exit after the shot.
As soon as her doctor enters the room with the little shiny thing in his hands, all hell breaks loose. Like a cornered tiger, she lashes out, bucks, and fights until we can get her in safe position. Needle inserted. Band-aid on. Sanity gone. Damn.
After her doctor gives her the needle, and I have her securely in my arms, he lets me know that for her age group, she is the hardest customer he ever had. Said he needed to start working out just to treat her. He then tells me that he wonders what it’s going to be like when she gets older.
God help us all.