I hate being sick. Being sick is such a waste of valuable time. As appealing as spending a whole day in bed sometimes is, when you have a kid that isn't going to happen, so that brings us back to sick=a big old miserable waste of time. As much as I hate being sick myself, I hate when Dylan is sick even more.
He's been remarkably healthy so far in his young life, so it always catches me off guard. I suddenly feel helpless, and unable to make the simplest decision. Do I let him sleep through dinner, or wake him up and try to get him to eat something? If he still has a fever after I give him one dose, how soon can I give him another? I could go on and on. I usually end up calling MY mommy.
He's had "the sniffles" for almost a month. I figured there was no point in taking him to the doctor's because they would just say "cold", and send us home with more germs than we had before going in.
But Monday, he started coughing too. The only appointment they had was at 4pm, so I took it. We went to the library in the morning to get new books, then came home for a nap before the appointment.
The snow started on our way there. We waited for 40 minutes before seeing the doctor. I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn't laugh, when the doctor strolled in completely unapologetic, and Dylan said, "You know, that was a long time to wait!" I couldn't stop myself from laughing at the end of the appointment, when he said, "Doctor? You forgot something... You didn't do the hammer thing on my knee to make my leg go ... BOING!"(jerking his leg up).
Luckily, the doctor agreed to call in an antibiotic. Unluckily, the snow was so bad by then, that I couldn't stop to pick it up. A drive that normally takes 20 minutes, took us 1 hour!
Yesterday, Dylan was in a semi-zombie state. He slept and sat staring into space and moaning, "I'm really sick". It's a bit unnerving when a kid who normally cannot be still, and cannot stop talking is suddenly comatose on the couch.
Today he threw up twice, and slept a lot, but he also talked and played some. I knew he was getting back to his normal self when he started asking me the kind of questions that have us going in circles, and me thinking I should look for a dictionary. We were reading a book and it said, "Some things are worth waiting for". "What's "worth"?, he asked. "Ummm, they mean that it was okay to wait, because it ended up being so much fun". "But, what's "worth"? "Um... the value you put on something". "What's value?" "How much something is worth to you... Errr, I mean.... Sigh...let me get a dictionary". So, yea, things are getting back to normal. Maybe we'll even leave the house sometime this week?
Showing posts with label doctor visits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doctor visits. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The Annual Physical
Back when I was having some physical problems (extreme exhaustion), and had a bunch of blood tests, (which all came back perfectly normal), my doctor convinced me to come in for an annual physical in January. I went last week. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I have been going to this doctor for 8 years, and I really like her. She is very laid back, very friendly, and extremely thorough. You know how most doctors hardly look at you, and rush through the appointment at lightning speed? Not her. Here's the problem. (You knew there was going to be a problem, right?) All the things that make her great... make her terrible.
I made my appointment for 9:30am. I had to drop Dylan off at preschool at 9:00 and pick him up at 12:00. That would be plenty of time, right? WRONG. I was ushered into the examining room at 9:40.
9:40 - Oh, cool! That didn't take long at all. She is usually running late, but I'm already in the examining room. The nurse said she should be in shortly and that I'm next.
9:45 - Man, this is a big examining room. Way back in the corner, like I've been bad or something. I feel like I'm in time out.
9:50 - Holy crap, it is cold in here! Why does it have to be so cold? Isn't that nurse freezing, with a short sleeved shirt on? Would the doctor think I'm weird if she came in, and found me with my gloves on? Oh, she'll be in soon. I'll be fine.
10:00 - I cannot believe she didn't come in yet! My appointment was for 9:30! I am so flippin' cold! At least I'm not waiting in the waiting room, catching everyone else's germs.
10:15 - This. Is. Ridiculous! WHY didn't I bring something to read? They could at least put some magazines in here, so I have something to do. There are SO many things I could be doing right now. I didn't really need to get a physical, did I? I could really go for something warm to drink right about now. Tea, hot chocolate... Great, now I'm thirsty AND cold.
10:30 - I have been waiting for ONE HOUR! This is INSANE! I hate doctors. I really do. They think their time is so much more important than mine. My time is nothing. Not like I have anything to do. Just a huge to-do list that is just sitting there, while I sit in this FREEZING COLD EXAMINING ROOM WITH NOTHING TO DO! GAH!! I am starting to really get mad. I need to calm down. Not looking at my watch every three seconds would probably help, too.
10:40 - I cannot take this anymore. They must have forgotten about me. (Opening the door, and sticking my head out). "HELLO?!" (Seeing a nurse) "Oh! Excuse me, do you have any idea when..."
OH YOU DID NOT JUST LOOK AT ME AND TURN AROUND TO GO THE OTHER WAY!
AAARRRGGGHHH! (Going back in the room and sitting back on the uncomfortable chair). That is IT! I am putting my coat, AND my gloves on. If I would have known I was going to sit here for AN HOUR AND TEN MINUTES, I would have just laid down to take a nap. (Leg beginning to bounce up and down, and eyebrow beginning to twitch). I. AM. SO. MAD!
10:45 (Leg still bouncing and eyebrow still twitching). What would they do if I just threw this chair against the wall? I bet someone would come in THEN. Hmmm... Wonder if I can surf the internet on this computer? I bet if I threw this computer against the wall someone would come in really quick. OMG, I am actually envisioning myself doing that now. OMG, what if I actually have an out of body experience and do it? Just stand up and throw the computer against the wall in the doctor's office? What would they do? That would be quite the story, huh? Could I possibly have Adult ADD? Why am I this mad about waiting? BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN AN HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES IN A COLD ROOM WITH NOTHING TO DO! AARRRGGGHHH! (Doing lamaze breathing to calm myself down. Trying to imagine myself on a tropical island drinking a pina colada).
10:50 AN HOUR AND TWENTY MINUTES!! I AM GOING TO TELL THAT DOCTOR OFF! THE NERVE!! Right after I throw this chair against the wall....
"Hi Jennifer! It's good to see you! How are you?"...
"...Oh... ummm... I'm...good". (Sigh)
I have been going to this doctor for 8 years, and I really like her. She is very laid back, very friendly, and extremely thorough. You know how most doctors hardly look at you, and rush through the appointment at lightning speed? Not her. Here's the problem. (You knew there was going to be a problem, right?) All the things that make her great... make her terrible.
I made my appointment for 9:30am. I had to drop Dylan off at preschool at 9:00 and pick him up at 12:00. That would be plenty of time, right? WRONG. I was ushered into the examining room at 9:40.
9:40 - Oh, cool! That didn't take long at all. She is usually running late, but I'm already in the examining room. The nurse said she should be in shortly and that I'm next.
9:45 - Man, this is a big examining room. Way back in the corner, like I've been bad or something. I feel like I'm in time out.
9:50 - Holy crap, it is cold in here! Why does it have to be so cold? Isn't that nurse freezing, with a short sleeved shirt on? Would the doctor think I'm weird if she came in, and found me with my gloves on? Oh, she'll be in soon. I'll be fine.
10:00 - I cannot believe she didn't come in yet! My appointment was for 9:30! I am so flippin' cold! At least I'm not waiting in the waiting room, catching everyone else's germs.
10:15 - This. Is. Ridiculous! WHY didn't I bring something to read? They could at least put some magazines in here, so I have something to do. There are SO many things I could be doing right now. I didn't really need to get a physical, did I? I could really go for something warm to drink right about now. Tea, hot chocolate... Great, now I'm thirsty AND cold.
10:30 - I have been waiting for ONE HOUR! This is INSANE! I hate doctors. I really do. They think their time is so much more important than mine. My time is nothing. Not like I have anything to do. Just a huge to-do list that is just sitting there, while I sit in this FREEZING COLD EXAMINING ROOM WITH NOTHING TO DO! GAH!! I am starting to really get mad. I need to calm down. Not looking at my watch every three seconds would probably help, too.
10:40 - I cannot take this anymore. They must have forgotten about me. (Opening the door, and sticking my head out). "HELLO?!" (Seeing a nurse) "Oh! Excuse me, do you have any idea when..."
OH YOU DID NOT JUST LOOK AT ME AND TURN AROUND TO GO THE OTHER WAY!
AAARRRGGGHHH! (Going back in the room and sitting back on the uncomfortable chair). That is IT! I am putting my coat, AND my gloves on. If I would have known I was going to sit here for AN HOUR AND TEN MINUTES, I would have just laid down to take a nap. (Leg beginning to bounce up and down, and eyebrow beginning to twitch). I. AM. SO. MAD!
10:45 (Leg still bouncing and eyebrow still twitching). What would they do if I just threw this chair against the wall? I bet someone would come in THEN. Hmmm... Wonder if I can surf the internet on this computer? I bet if I threw this computer against the wall someone would come in really quick. OMG, I am actually envisioning myself doing that now. OMG, what if I actually have an out of body experience and do it? Just stand up and throw the computer against the wall in the doctor's office? What would they do? That would be quite the story, huh? Could I possibly have Adult ADD? Why am I this mad about waiting? BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN AN HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES IN A COLD ROOM WITH NOTHING TO DO! AARRRGGGHHH! (Doing lamaze breathing to calm myself down. Trying to imagine myself on a tropical island drinking a pina colada).
10:50 AN HOUR AND TWENTY MINUTES!! I AM GOING TO TELL THAT DOCTOR OFF! THE NERVE!! Right after I throw this chair against the wall....
"Hi Jennifer! It's good to see you! How are you?"...
"...Oh... ummm... I'm...good". (Sigh)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Human Pin Cushion
Alternate title: I Must Be A Robot
Do you remember this post? My doctor wanted me to get a blood test, to check my thyroid, cholesterol, and a few other things that I can't even remember. I'm just a mess. Well, shortly after that appointment, I went back to the doctor's office on a day Jim had taken off, so he could watch Dylan. The lady tried twice to get a vein. Then, she actually sent me home. Yep. She told me my veins are so tiny that I would have to go to a lab, "where people do this all day, and know how to deal with people like you".
Since I had to fast, which meant having to go in pretty early, I didn't want to have to ask my parents to babysit. I waited until Jim was able to take another day off - today. I dropped Dylan off at school, and the plan was that if for some ridiculous reason I couldn't make it back in time, that Jim would pick him up.
I went to the hospital lab, where I figured people would know how to deal with "people like me". I was number 11. (Remember that). I explained my SITUATION to the first lady who would be so lucky as to attempt to take my blood. "Super tiny veins that roll...have to use a pediatric needle...go into shock and the blood just trickles out...have NEVER gotten it on the first try... always an ordeal...blah, blah, blah" I have told the story numerous times, and each time the people are still surprised. This time was no exception. As a matter of fact, this time was the WORST EVER.
The first lady tried twice in my left hand. Then she made a phone call, and I could hear her talking about me, using terms I couldn't understand, and I heard her say something about a "finger prick"?! WHAT?! She asked me how much water I had to drink before I came. "Well, they told me about this before, so I drank 3 bottles of water this morning. I almost didn't make it here without peeing my pants". "You're still dehydrated", she explained. ????
Then, lucky lady number 2 was called in to "give it a try". I was busy finding my "happy place", but she kept bringing me back to the present, asking "are you okay"? "YEP! FINE! SHUSH!!!" She tried once in my left hand, and then once in my left arm. I'm not sure what happened in my arm, but it hurt like a (not nice word I can't write on my blog). I have a pretty high pain thresh hold. I mean, I gave birth without drugs, and I gave the pain a rating of 4 (1 being no pain, 10 being kill me now), when minutes later, when checked, they were screaming, "Oh my gosh! There's the head!!" But, when lady number 2 tried pricking my arm I cried.
That was when lucky lady number 3 was called in. I had the pleasure of meeting all three nurses who were working today! The three of them stood around discussing me as if I wasn't even there. Didn't matter. I was happily sunbathing at the beach, sipping a Pina Colada. Lady number 3 stuck me in my hand, then apologized, and said I have the worst veins she has ever seen. YAY! I do so like to be different.
On try number 6, in my right arm, she finally got one. BUT, it was trickling out. They only got half of what they needed before she had to pull the needle out. She told me, "I don't think we got enough. We can quit, and you can come back another day. Or, I can try one more time. We aren't ALLOWED to stick you more than 7 times". I looked at her and said, "I.DO.NOT.WANT.TO.COME.BACK.HERE". So, on the 7th try, she got another 1/2 of what she needed. I am praying it is all enough, because I might hurt someone if I have to go back in.
When I stumbled out of the room, feeling a bit light headed and extremely weak, I heard the lady call out the next number. "Twenty three?!" Yep. 23!
Do you remember this post? My doctor wanted me to get a blood test, to check my thyroid, cholesterol, and a few other things that I can't even remember. I'm just a mess. Well, shortly after that appointment, I went back to the doctor's office on a day Jim had taken off, so he could watch Dylan. The lady tried twice to get a vein. Then, she actually sent me home. Yep. She told me my veins are so tiny that I would have to go to a lab, "where people do this all day, and know how to deal with people like you".
Since I had to fast, which meant having to go in pretty early, I didn't want to have to ask my parents to babysit. I waited until Jim was able to take another day off - today. I dropped Dylan off at school, and the plan was that if for some ridiculous reason I couldn't make it back in time, that Jim would pick him up.
I went to the hospital lab, where I figured people would know how to deal with "people like me". I was number 11. (Remember that). I explained my SITUATION to the first lady who would be so lucky as to attempt to take my blood. "Super tiny veins that roll...have to use a pediatric needle...go into shock and the blood just trickles out...have NEVER gotten it on the first try... always an ordeal...blah, blah, blah" I have told the story numerous times, and each time the people are still surprised. This time was no exception. As a matter of fact, this time was the WORST EVER.
The first lady tried twice in my left hand. Then she made a phone call, and I could hear her talking about me, using terms I couldn't understand, and I heard her say something about a "finger prick"?! WHAT?! She asked me how much water I had to drink before I came. "Well, they told me about this before, so I drank 3 bottles of water this morning. I almost didn't make it here without peeing my pants". "You're still dehydrated", she explained. ????
Then, lucky lady number 2 was called in to "give it a try". I was busy finding my "happy place", but she kept bringing me back to the present, asking "are you okay"? "YEP! FINE! SHUSH!!!" She tried once in my left hand, and then once in my left arm. I'm not sure what happened in my arm, but it hurt like a (not nice word I can't write on my blog). I have a pretty high pain thresh hold. I mean, I gave birth without drugs, and I gave the pain a rating of 4 (1 being no pain, 10 being kill me now), when minutes later, when checked, they were screaming, "Oh my gosh! There's the head!!" But, when lady number 2 tried pricking my arm I cried.
That was when lucky lady number 3 was called in. I had the pleasure of meeting all three nurses who were working today! The three of them stood around discussing me as if I wasn't even there. Didn't matter. I was happily sunbathing at the beach, sipping a Pina Colada. Lady number 3 stuck me in my hand, then apologized, and said I have the worst veins she has ever seen. YAY! I do so like to be different.
On try number 6, in my right arm, she finally got one. BUT, it was trickling out. They only got half of what they needed before she had to pull the needle out. She told me, "I don't think we got enough. We can quit, and you can come back another day. Or, I can try one more time. We aren't ALLOWED to stick you more than 7 times". I looked at her and said, "I.DO.NOT.WANT.TO.COME.BACK.HERE". So, on the 7th try, she got another 1/2 of what she needed. I am praying it is all enough, because I might hurt someone if I have to go back in.
When I stumbled out of the room, feeling a bit light headed and extremely weak, I heard the lady call out the next number. "Twenty three?!" Yep. 23!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
What's Up? Oh, You're Gonna Be Sorry You Asked.
It's been a week since I posted. I'm not sure why? Possibly because I have been... well... exhausted. I went to the doctor's this morning. The poor lady looked like she was writing a short story on my chart. Here are all the gross and completely TMI details to make you feel pretty good about your hot selves...
1. What I thought was a sinus infection is just a cold. A cold that is making me unable to breathe, my throat hurt, and my cough tickle, but still "just a cold". Prescribed: Echinacea and Dayquil/Nyquil
2. Constant gas. (Sexy, no?) Prescribed: Probiotics
3. Horrifyingly ugly big toes. Prescribed: Go see a podiatrist to see if it is just trauma (my kid steps on my toes daily), or an infection. (You're welcome for not posting pictures. Although, Halloween IS coming up soon).
4. Rash(right under my boob) that I thought was eczema and have been treating as such for almost a month because I cannot make the time to go to the doctors - Yeast infection. (Yes, I have been rubbing my boob in public. AND, I work with children). Prescribed: Some kind of cream
5. My fear that I am already in perimenopause because even though I am cold all day, at night I wake up overheated and soaked in sweat (It is amazing I have sex, ever, isn't it?). Prescribed: Blood work to check my thyroid, and while we are at it, my cholesterol level because, oh, why not?
6. She asked if I'm fatigued. I said, "Uh... DUH.. See above". No, actually I said, "Well, my job is exhausting, I have a 3 1/2 year old active little boy, and my husband's blood pressure medicine makes him cough at night and wake me up". Prescribed: Quit job and divorce husband. Just kidding! Tell husband to have doctor switch him to another blood pressure med.
On top of all this, it is October. "So?", you ask. Well, something happens to my kid in October every year. Every year he starts acting like a lunatic in October(one month before his birthday), and I think, "Oh man, 2 is gonna be terrible", or "Oh man, how am I gonna survive 3?". Then, he turns 2, or 3, or 4 (I HOPE I HOPE I HOPE) and he is fine.
So far, he has
A. illustrated the concept "centrifugal force" by spinning a tower of books in Borders until I heard a sound like a spaceship breaking through space, followed by books spraying all over the Borders floor.
B. Colored on our couch in PEN.
C. Threw a ball, which hit a shadowbox, causing it to crash to the ground and break.
D. Put a bunch of my Mini-Match pieces in a bag, BEFORE they were dry.
E. Thrown numerous fits.
All this, in addition to the craptastic rainy/cloudy/cold weather we've been having in Pittsburgh has resulted in me being quite "AREYOULOOKINGATME?HUH?PUNK?", but today the sun is out, and I'm gonna go pick up some cream to put on my itchy boob. Things will get better.
1. What I thought was a sinus infection is just a cold. A cold that is making me unable to breathe, my throat hurt, and my cough tickle, but still "just a cold". Prescribed: Echinacea and Dayquil/Nyquil
2. Constant gas. (Sexy, no?) Prescribed: Probiotics
3. Horrifyingly ugly big toes. Prescribed: Go see a podiatrist to see if it is just trauma (my kid steps on my toes daily), or an infection. (You're welcome for not posting pictures. Although, Halloween IS coming up soon).
4. Rash(right under my boob) that I thought was eczema and have been treating as such for almost a month because I cannot make the time to go to the doctors - Yeast infection. (Yes, I have been rubbing my boob in public. AND, I work with children). Prescribed: Some kind of cream
5. My fear that I am already in perimenopause because even though I am cold all day, at night I wake up overheated and soaked in sweat (It is amazing I have sex, ever, isn't it?). Prescribed: Blood work to check my thyroid, and while we are at it, my cholesterol level because, oh, why not?
6. She asked if I'm fatigued. I said, "Uh... DUH.. See above". No, actually I said, "Well, my job is exhausting, I have a 3 1/2 year old active little boy, and my husband's blood pressure medicine makes him cough at night and wake me up". Prescribed: Quit job and divorce husband. Just kidding! Tell husband to have doctor switch him to another blood pressure med.
On top of all this, it is October. "So?", you ask. Well, something happens to my kid in October every year. Every year he starts acting like a lunatic in October(one month before his birthday), and I think, "Oh man, 2 is gonna be terrible", or "Oh man, how am I gonna survive 3?". Then, he turns 2, or 3, or 4 (I HOPE I HOPE I HOPE) and he is fine.
So far, he has
A. illustrated the concept "centrifugal force" by spinning a tower of books in Borders until I heard a sound like a spaceship breaking through space, followed by books spraying all over the Borders floor.
B. Colored on our couch in PEN.
C. Threw a ball, which hit a shadowbox, causing it to crash to the ground and break.
D. Put a bunch of my Mini-Match pieces in a bag, BEFORE they were dry.
E. Thrown numerous fits.
All this, in addition to the craptastic rainy/cloudy/cold weather we've been having in Pittsburgh has resulted in me being quite "AREYOULOOKINGATME?HUH?PUNK?", but today the sun is out, and I'm gonna go pick up some cream to put on my itchy boob. Things will get better.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Well Visits Make Me Sick
I was four months late making Dylan's three year old appointment at the pediatrician, so I knew I'd have to just take whatever time they could give me. When the receptionist said 2:30, I thought "This will suck". That was a fairly accurate prediction.
It was on a school day, so the normal routine was to get home by 12:00, have him watch a video, eat lunch, then take a nap from about 1:40 to 3:40 or so. He usually naps two hours. Yes, I realize how lucky I am that he's still napping. He needs the nap. If he doesn't get one he is either A:wild or B:cranky. The normal routine wouldn't work with that appointment. I told him when I picked him up from school that we couldn't watch a video when we got home because he had a doctor appointment. Dumb. That started the water works, and wails of "No! I don't wanna go to the doctor's!"
He was "down" for a nap early - at 12:45. One problem - his routine was out of whack and NO way was he sleeping. All I could do was hope for the best at the appointment.
We arrived ten minutes early and he played nicely with his computer for fifteen minutes, until they called us in. The nurse took his height and weight, and led us to a room. Then we waited another ten minutes. When the door opened, and a woman I'd never seen before entered, I groaned inwardly. She explained that she is doing her residency, and the doctor would be in after her. "Great", I thought. Let me just say, I KNOW they have to get practice. I KNOW it's a necessary part of their training. I KNOW I should be patient about it, but I'm not. I want to get in, see the doctor my son and I like, (who knows his history), and get out. I don't have the time or patience for anyone else.
Right about at that very second, Dylan became a nutjob. Hopping around the room, grabbing stuff, and singing loudly. Resident Girl looked highly annoyed and slightly afraid of him. "Wrong career path, lady!", I was screaming...in my head.
She checked her computer, and told me, "He's in the 25th-50th percentile for height, and the 90th percentile for weight". "Umm..I'm sorry, can you repeat that?", I asked. She said the same thing, and I told her, "I'm sorry, but that can't be right. He's one of the tallest kids in his class, and he's not that heavy". I mean, "Hello?" If he truly were 25th percentile for height and 90th percentile for weight, I would need to put him on a diet immediately. Did she even bother to look at him? Does she have any clue what an average three year old even looks like? She replied in a very bored tone, "That's what the chart says". "Well, someone is wrong", I replied back. At that point, Dylan was hammering the floor with the reflex tester doodad. We had been there almost an hour.
Another lady came in ,a while later, and said they were going to take his measurements again. Then, the doctor finally made an appearance. He laughed, and said, "Well, he's grown quite a bit since he first came in. Now, he's 90th percentile for weight AND height". Uh, yea. If there is anything I learned with the whole torticollis thing, it is to trust your own instincts, and never be afraid to question doctors or to be an advocate for your child.
The doctor quickly (in about five minutes) checked Dylan, and asked if I had any questions. Dylan was bouncing off the walls at that point, and picking up every germ int he place, so my main question was "Can we get the hell outta here?!" But, first, I had to hold him still while he got a shot.
He seriously fell asleep before we were even out of the parking lot. At least I have a whole year before the next well visit.
It was on a school day, so the normal routine was to get home by 12:00, have him watch a video, eat lunch, then take a nap from about 1:40 to 3:40 or so. He usually naps two hours. Yes, I realize how lucky I am that he's still napping. He needs the nap. If he doesn't get one he is either A:wild or B:cranky. The normal routine wouldn't work with that appointment. I told him when I picked him up from school that we couldn't watch a video when we got home because he had a doctor appointment. Dumb. That started the water works, and wails of "No! I don't wanna go to the doctor's!"
He was "down" for a nap early - at 12:45. One problem - his routine was out of whack and NO way was he sleeping. All I could do was hope for the best at the appointment.
We arrived ten minutes early and he played nicely with his computer for fifteen minutes, until they called us in. The nurse took his height and weight, and led us to a room. Then we waited another ten minutes. When the door opened, and a woman I'd never seen before entered, I groaned inwardly. She explained that she is doing her residency, and the doctor would be in after her. "Great", I thought. Let me just say, I KNOW they have to get practice. I KNOW it's a necessary part of their training. I KNOW I should be patient about it, but I'm not. I want to get in, see the doctor my son and I like, (who knows his history), and get out. I don't have the time or patience for anyone else.
Right about at that very second, Dylan became a nutjob. Hopping around the room, grabbing stuff, and singing loudly. Resident Girl looked highly annoyed and slightly afraid of him. "Wrong career path, lady!", I was screaming...in my head.
She checked her computer, and told me, "He's in the 25th-50th percentile for height, and the 90th percentile for weight". "Umm..I'm sorry, can you repeat that?", I asked. She said the same thing, and I told her, "I'm sorry, but that can't be right. He's one of the tallest kids in his class, and he's not that heavy". I mean, "Hello?" If he truly were 25th percentile for height and 90th percentile for weight, I would need to put him on a diet immediately. Did she even bother to look at him? Does she have any clue what an average three year old even looks like? She replied in a very bored tone, "That's what the chart says". "Well, someone is wrong", I replied back. At that point, Dylan was hammering the floor with the reflex tester doodad. We had been there almost an hour.
Another lady came in ,a while later, and said they were going to take his measurements again. Then, the doctor finally made an appearance. He laughed, and said, "Well, he's grown quite a bit since he first came in. Now, he's 90th percentile for weight AND height". Uh, yea. If there is anything I learned with the whole torticollis thing, it is to trust your own instincts, and never be afraid to question doctors or to be an advocate for your child.
The doctor quickly (in about five minutes) checked Dylan, and asked if I had any questions. Dylan was bouncing off the walls at that point, and picking up every germ int he place, so my main question was "Can we get the hell outta here?!" But, first, I had to hold him still while he got a shot.
He seriously fell asleep before we were even out of the parking lot. At least I have a whole year before the next well visit.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
To Catch Up
I know, it's been a while since I posted anything. I've been exhausted. I've had a sore throat now for two weeks. Technically, two weeks and 3 days, but who's counting? I have had no other symptoms other than being ridiculously tired and weak. I figured I just wasn't getting enough sleep. But after two weeks, I decided I needed to see a doctor.
Before that, though, I had to get through Dylan's first official Kindermusik class (yes, I signed him up). It was adorable. He walked right in and got to the very important business of dancing/hopping/rolling on the floor, etc. Wow! Definitely the right decision to sign him up. They gave us a CD with the music and he has been recreating class ever since, usually several times a day.
On Friday was my doctor appointment. Basically, the official diagnosis is, "I'm not sure what is wrong with you". See why they get paid the big bucks? So, they took a test for strep throat, gave me an antibiotic and reflux medication (in case I have reflux, in spite of having NO symptoms), and then she uttered the two dreaded words... blood test. Maybe I have mono - for the THIRD time. Yes, I have already been through that twice. As soon as she said the words "blood test", I went into super annoyed mode. It never goes well. As soon as I hear the words, I know what is coming. I am at the point of throwing politeness and tact right the heck out the window, so I exclaimed, "Do you have someone really good, because it is really hard to get my blood. I have teeny, tiny veins, and they roll. I NEED someone good!"
In spite of my comment, she sent in the young male medical assistant, who I could just tell was clueless. After explaining things to him, he started "searching for a good vein". After a while I asked, "So, are you pretty good at this?" His, "Uhh..." answer was all I needed to hear. "Okay, listen, you have to get someone else in here who is really, really good at this". He went for back up and she started poking and prodding and slapping my right arm. This went on for a ridiculous amount of time, with clueless guy and her having an entire conversation about my tiny veins. "There was one right here, but where did it go?" There are only so many times a person can slap your arm before you start to think about slapping them back, so I begged, "Could you please try somewhere else?"
She finally found a "good one" in my hand. I absolutely cannot look anywhere in the vicinity of the needle, so I looked at the wall and envisioned myself on an island with the cabana boy massaging my shoulders. That's when I heard her tell clueless guy, "Wow, look how slow this is! It is just dripping out. How much do we need?" Then, she asked me, "Does your blood usually come out really slow?" "Yep, that's just the joy of being me", I explained. After what seemed like an eternity, she stated that she thought that was all we were gonna get.
After all that, the doctor gave me a number for an ear/nose/throat specialist, and told me to make an appointment. You know life isn't going well when you actually hope you have strep throat.
Believe it or not, after all that torture, later that day, a friend came over with her 3 boys for a play date. Four boys under the age of 3 in your home = chaos and a great deal of NOISE, NOISE, NOISE. It was fun, though, and my friend's ability to focus on our conversation in spite of one kid getting in the refrigerator, while another stood on the windowsill, while another screamed the alphabet (did you guess that was mine?), while another screamed bloody murder, was nothing short of extraordinary. Moms truly are amazing, and I am one, so I figure I can handle a sore throat and a little exhaustion.
Before that, though, I had to get through Dylan's first official Kindermusik class (yes, I signed him up). It was adorable. He walked right in and got to the very important business of dancing/hopping/rolling on the floor, etc. Wow! Definitely the right decision to sign him up. They gave us a CD with the music and he has been recreating class ever since, usually several times a day.
On Friday was my doctor appointment. Basically, the official diagnosis is, "I'm not sure what is wrong with you". See why they get paid the big bucks? So, they took a test for strep throat, gave me an antibiotic and reflux medication (in case I have reflux, in spite of having NO symptoms), and then she uttered the two dreaded words... blood test. Maybe I have mono - for the THIRD time. Yes, I have already been through that twice. As soon as she said the words "blood test", I went into super annoyed mode. It never goes well. As soon as I hear the words, I know what is coming. I am at the point of throwing politeness and tact right the heck out the window, so I exclaimed, "Do you have someone really good, because it is really hard to get my blood. I have teeny, tiny veins, and they roll. I NEED someone good!"
In spite of my comment, she sent in the young male medical assistant, who I could just tell was clueless. After explaining things to him, he started "searching for a good vein". After a while I asked, "So, are you pretty good at this?" His, "Uhh..." answer was all I needed to hear. "Okay, listen, you have to get someone else in here who is really, really good at this". He went for back up and she started poking and prodding and slapping my right arm. This went on for a ridiculous amount of time, with clueless guy and her having an entire conversation about my tiny veins. "There was one right here, but where did it go?" There are only so many times a person can slap your arm before you start to think about slapping them back, so I begged, "Could you please try somewhere else?"
She finally found a "good one" in my hand. I absolutely cannot look anywhere in the vicinity of the needle, so I looked at the wall and envisioned myself on an island with the cabana boy massaging my shoulders. That's when I heard her tell clueless guy, "Wow, look how slow this is! It is just dripping out. How much do we need?" Then, she asked me, "Does your blood usually come out really slow?" "Yep, that's just the joy of being me", I explained. After what seemed like an eternity, she stated that she thought that was all we were gonna get.
After all that, the doctor gave me a number for an ear/nose/throat specialist, and told me to make an appointment. You know life isn't going well when you actually hope you have strep throat.
Believe it or not, after all that torture, later that day, a friend came over with her 3 boys for a play date. Four boys under the age of 3 in your home = chaos and a great deal of NOISE, NOISE, NOISE. It was fun, though, and my friend's ability to focus on our conversation in spite of one kid getting in the refrigerator, while another stood on the windowsill, while another screamed the alphabet (did you guess that was mine?), while another screamed bloody murder, was nothing short of extraordinary. Moms truly are amazing, and I am one, so I figure I can handle a sore throat and a little exhaustion.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Two Year Doctor Visit
We took Dylan for his 2 year old doctor appointment. He used to HATE going there. He would start crying the minute we walked in the door, and not stop until we walked out. But, after I rented "Elmo Goes To The Doctor", and my parents came up with the brilliant plan to get him yogurt after the appointments, (so he'll associate the doctor with something good), he now LOVES going there. (He'll weigh 200lbs, but he won't mind going to the doctor).
As soon as the doctor walked in, Dylan started showing off...if showing off involves an absurd display of hyper activity. He started blabbing away in a crazy string of words, some understandable, some not. When the doctor started discussing his eating habits with us, he loudly stated, "I EAT YOGURT!! One bite! Two bites! Three bites!!" When the doctor started going over the checklist of things he should be doing at age 2, it went like this...
Doc: "Running, Jumping, Hopping...Yes, he's doing all those right now...Says at least 50 words...I think he has said more than that just since I came in the room..." All this while Dylan was doing his crazy half skip/half hop around and around in a circle, all while blabbing loudly about who knows what.
As soon as the doctor walked in, Dylan started showing off...if showing off involves an absurd display of hyper activity. He started blabbing away in a crazy string of words, some understandable, some not. When the doctor started discussing his eating habits with us, he loudly stated, "I EAT YOGURT!! One bite! Two bites! Three bites!!" When the doctor started going over the checklist of things he should be doing at age 2, it went like this...
Doc: "Running, Jumping, Hopping...Yes, he's doing all those right now...Says at least 50 words...I think he has said more than that just since I came in the room..." All this while Dylan was doing his crazy half skip/half hop around and around in a circle, all while blabbing loudly about who knows what.
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