That’s me and doctors. I have an irrational fear of doctors and their offices and other environs. I know doctors personally (meaning I don’t come to them for treatment, nor do I visit their offices I just see them at bbq’s and scout stuff) and I like them. They are funny, smart, interesting people. But, when I’m faced with having to visit a doctor on a professional basis, all bets are off. I do better when I have to take one of the kids to the doctor’s office, but not by much.
Why? Well, it’s all the questions and it’s the dilemma about answering the way you SHOULD answer or answering truthfully. Now that the boys are older, I worry if they have something going on medically. Should I have done something differently when they were little? Even though most of our doctors have been our doctors for years and years, even our new doctors are mild in their patient history and other info forms. Yet, the night before an appointment, I toss and turn imagining questions:
“Have you ever knowingly fed your child something called chicken nuggets, fingers or planks?”
“Have you ever let a child under the age of five drink from your Diet Soda?”
“Have you ever told your child that ketchup and/or pickles are a vegetable?”
“Have you ever napped on the couch for two hours and let your preschoolers watch Disney videos while eating Cheerio’s and cheese sticks?”
You get my drift. Dan had a 10 am appointment this morning. I was up and pacing by 6 am. Yes, me the vampire.
Everything I have done that was not “good” might be affecting my now 10, 16, 16 and 17 year olds. I can’t take it back. Do I withhold this information so I look like a good parent or do I bare all and risk being on an episode of “Cops?” (Why do I always leave my good tube tops at the dry cleaners?) I never gave a child a bottle filled with Mountain Dew if that counts.
Some of you might remember we got the all clear on Dan’s brain. However, the fainting/flopping/passing out continues. We saw the neurologist again last week. I still like him. If I had a child who really needed a neurologist, he would be my guy. He’s direct. He doesn’t talk down to you, but makes sure you and your child understand what he’s saying. And, his office is well-run. He can’t figure Dan out, so he sent us to the cardiologist. That’s where we spent this morning. Great office, we both really liked the doctor as well. She and the neurologist are in agreement, but the cardiologist saw more on her tests (an EKG and something else). Another round of upping his salt and fluid intake. At this point, I don’t know what else can be salted, but Mike had the idea of installing a cow lick next to Dan’s bed. I think we might go with that option. We go back in three months to discuss medication (beta blockers) and other possible treatments.
The good news, Dan’s brain and heart are essentially fine. But, as Andy(the best little brother evah!) observed, clearly Dan’s black soul lies somewhere else within his body. Really, though, good news. But, I am SO tired. Thinking about and actually going to doctor’s offices uses up my reserves. It’s not rational, but that’s how I react. The upside of today was getting so see two beautiful wee babies (less than four months). WOW! How easy it is to forget how little and perfect they are. I didn’t want to take a baby home with me, but I would gladly have sat holding one (or both) of them for hours if the parents had asked.
For now, I’m gearing up for Ian getting his braces off on Thursday and then a visit to the dentist on Friday. Honestly, in eight days, I’ve been in five different doctor’s offices if you count lab work visits too. I’m a giant human hive right now – the little ‘one-doctor’s-office-visit’ hives have merged into one giant, all-encompassing hive. It’s attractive. I know the boys appreciate it because it’s easy to find me in the waiting room – “That’s her. My mom is the giant red lump in the corner. Yep. That one who is pretending to read a book.”
Anyone available Thursday and Friday? I can offer: homemade bread; a check, if you don’t mind holding it for a bit; excellent gumbo; or happy hour on Friday.