4 posts tagged “doctor”
Around 11:30 last night, Alanna woke up to go to the bathroom. I happened to be up reading, so I went to check on her. I noticed she felt warm, and when I asked if she was feeling okay, she said her forehead hurt "on the inside." After giving her some motrin, I put her back to bed, and she fell asleep for about an hour. I heard her starting to whimper in bed, and she said her head still hurt. I called the pediatrician's triage line to be sure there was nothing I needed to do. They suggested I wait another 30-40 minutes and call back if the headache hadn't subsided. Fortunately, she fell asleep and didn't awaken until about 7:00. We wound up with an MD appointment for this afternoon. Alanna was so excited to go; Aidan wanted to go with us so much that he pretended he had a hurt lip and needed to see the doctor. They love their pediatrician, but she is out on maternity leave, so I clued Alanna in that they would be seeing a different doctor today, and Alanna was okay with that.
We arrived a little early, and our paperwork somehow didn't get to the nurses until I inquired after sitting in the waiting room after quite a while. Up to this point, Alanna was just fine, waiting happily in the waiting room, and Aidan was so patient, too! FINALLY, a nurse came to get us. She was nice enough, but a little hard to describe...brawny is the best adjective that springs to mind. I can see how a three year old would be a little intimidated by her stature, and unfortunately, her personality didn't do anything to soften her image. She spoke a little too loud and overexaggerated her articulation while unsuccessfully attempting to talk to Alanna in motherese. Alanna wanted nothing to do with her and just tried to curl up into my shoulder as much as possible. To make matters worse, she stood up and peered down over her glasses at Alanna and said "Honey, I can tell you this much. No one is going to give you any shots today. No one is here to hurt you. You're not getting any shots. Okay? You're not going to get hurt today." And on, and on. Oh My God!!! Did she think it would actually help to repeatedly reference pain and injury??? Even in a sense that it wouldn't be happening?? Alanna has no fear of doctor's offices, and she wasn't worried about any of this. I can only hope that she doesn't remember this next time we have to go to the doctor!! She would barely look at the doctor when he came in, and she wouldn't say a word.
No word yet on what it is, but we are waiting on results of a strep test...
Today Emory had her 2 year old check up, and all went well. She is just over 33 inches tall...she has leapt up to about the 35th percentile in height and is still hanging around the 25th percentile on weight for height. No surprises...that was good. After her appointment, all three kids had to have blood drawn to check their cholesterol because Jason's family has such a strong history of heart disease/high cholesterol. They had a very light breakfast, so they were hungry and itching for a snack.
That was NOT fun. Thank God Jason was able to rearrange a meeting to help me. I distracted two in the waiting area while he took the third in for the blood draw. Emory went first, and Alanna and Aidan seemed to know that she was not producing a defiant scream of protest (the usual). They asked what they were doing in there with Emory, and I tried to avoid answering the question and drew their attention back to the book we were reading, pointing out details in the pictures to keep them distracted. The techs tried their best to keep Emory happy (good luck with that), and she ran out with a strip of 5 stickers in her hand, but still very offended by everything. Aidan wasn't fooled, and when it was his turn, he was not happy. He sank to the floor like a wet noodle when I tried to pick him up, trying to avoid the inevitable. (He can do something with his shoulders when he holds his arms straight up that makes it nearly impossible to get a good grip. He just slides right through your hands. The girls don't do this.) He was a trooper though. Alanna occasionally glanced in the room where Aidan was, since he was within eyeshot...she seemed a little nervous. He came running to me when he was done...7 stickers in hand. He was a little "wounded," but nothing some snuggling couldn't fix. Alanna hopped down from my lap reluctantly and bravely took her turn. She didn't cry until they actually took the blood, I think. I was too busy singing anything to keep Emory from screaming. Alanna came out with ELEVEN stickers, not too thrilled, but she toughed it out. We were all happy to get to the car and have some snacks and juice! I don't know if the other people in the waiting area were smiling out of contempt, faking it while shooting me the evil eye as my children screamed, or trying to express empathy for the situation.
I'm happy that is over with! I think I probably got the easier job...poor Jason! He's good about the medical stuff, obviously, but I'm sure he didn't enjoy putting them in a stronghold in a situation that was scary and painful (however briefly.)
Over the last few days, Alanna has been very good about not bothering her stitches. She's careful, but not obssessive, which is good! Two nights ago, as Jason was putting some neosporin and a fresh bandaid on, she told him to be careful. His response was something to the tune of "I think I know how to do this; I am a doctor, ya know." To which she replied: "I know, but you're a daddy too."
Tonight, as I was wiping her off after dinner, she said:
"I always have to remind you to be careful of my bandaid because you're not a doctor."
Hmmpph. Well, I guess she's never heard of Dr. Mom...and without proper credentials, no one is qualified to change a bandaid properly. I guess that's why Jason's been training for all these years. In a mere two years, he'll be able to change a bandaid without a three year old walking him through it. I wonder where that leaves me!?!
Tee hee.
I have officially had my first experience taking my child to get stitches. I guess this is a rite of passage for all mothers...I just thought it would occur down the road for some reason.
Late this afternoon, we were coming inside after playing with our spiffy bubble machine to get ready to go out for dinner with my in-laws. At some point, I heard a loud thud, followed by screaming. Alanna had fallen down, and it didn't seem like a run-of-the-mill spill. She wasn't running...she may have been dancing around, but my back was to her, so I don't know. When I finally got a glimpse of the gash under her chin, I was pretty sure our dinner plans were off, and I'd be heading to urgent care or the ER. Of course, this happens when Jason is in Hawaii at a conference...so he can't assess the situation...more specifically, the gash under her chin and if it needed stitches/glue/steristrips ...whatever. So I called the triage line for our pediatrician, and, considering the shrieking that followed any attempt for me to look at it, my attempts at describing the gash were weak, at best. Not to mention, every time I looked at it, my stomach churned a little. I can deal with blood...anything more makes me very happy I don't work in the medical field. They kept asking questions that I didn't know how to answer; what I wanted to say was "All I know is that it doesn't look normal...not an abrasion, I don't know what I'm looking at...but it looks like what is supposed to be inside her chin is OUTSIDE! Just tell me...do I need to take her to urgent care or the ER???!!!"
Finally the on-call doctor phoned, and he recommended that we head to urgent care. Alanna was none-too-pleased, and Aidan was devastated that we weren't going "to the restaurant." He'd been looking forward to it all day, so we promised him a raincheck. Alanna and I headed off, and we purchased her first Happy Meal. She was a trooper throughout the whole ordeal. I think the worst part was the anticipation. I had to sit with a little cotton ball soaked in numbing medication on her chin for 20 minutes. She was fine...I made up stories...I retold stories she likes from memory...for about 10-15 minutes, then the anticipation was killing her. All I told her was that we were putting medicine on her chin, like orajel, to make it feel better, then they were going to "fix her up," and we'd go home. She started to get stressed and tears started to flow, and it only got worse when they came in to do the procedure. She was very brave, and she didn't fight me or the nurse holding her head and arms at all. I couldn't decide if I should watch or turn my head the other way. I took one quick peek, and that was plenty. Another confirmation that allied health is the place for me! Fortunately, Alanna recovered quickly when it was all over. She was very excited about her little Happy Meal toy...a little bear with a bottle, and getting her very own "milk jug" with the Happy Meal was a big treat.
My little trooper!
