We survived, barely. Sam and Ian each had their four-year-old and seven-year-old annual check-ups, respectively. Each year is the same thing. I schedule both kids' appointments for the same time and day. Ian always goes first so that his little sister can see how harmless the appointment will be. Ha ha! Not this time though. Sam had to get 3 shots and a finger prick and Ian had none.
Arriving at our appointment, Sam refused to come through the door. I sign us in and the nurse (who knows us quite well) seizes up the situation and recommends that Sam gets her shots first, over and done with. Sam hears this and goes extra ballistic. She is not a happy camper. This is where the screaming fully kicks in. I get her off the floor outside the doctors office, and carry her inside. Even though we are only in the waiting area, Sam is already trying to escape. And oh yeah, have I mentioned the ear-piercing screaming too? With a big bear hold, I've got my legs and arms wrapped around her, waiting for the nurse to tell us she has her shots ready to go. Sam is fighting me something fierce and kicking with what little freedom her legs have. After about 5 very long minutes, we get called back to the individual exam rooms. Ian brings up the rear carrying my purse and big diaper bag.
Inside the exam room, the nurse grabs hold of Sam too and does her best to not get kicked along with me. At this point the dr has stuck her head in the door and asks if she can help. The screaming is out of control, made its way to all the individual rooms and everyone is on high alert, offering to do whatever they can to help. The shots and the finger prick go mercifully quick. But Sam continues screaming at the top of her lungs for another 20 minutes. She has now been screaming for more than 40 minutes non-stop.
The nurse tells me that she'll give Sam a few minutes to calm down and then try to do the stats (height, weight, eye check, ear check, etc). Ian is a rock star and demonstrates to Sam how easy it all is. Sam refuses to get on the scale. At this point she is scooting along on the floor, refusing to get up. Let me tell you, this is freakin fabulous and I am happy its the end of the week and Jeff will be taking over the next two days.
The rest of the appointment becomes a blur. Somewhere along the way, Sam starts nodding off in her chair. The Dr. takes this opportunity to listen to her heart. That's enough of a stir to cause Sam to go for round 2. Sam FREAKS out all over again and this time I am holding her again, with all my limbs wrapped tightly around her, so the dr can do a quickie exam (listening to her heart and look in her ears). At some point, I get peed on (through her wearing a pull-up) and Sam yells she needs to go to the bathroom. But not before she takes off her wet dress. Yes, again, we have the naked girl screaming at the top of her lungs. Only this time, the only back-up clothing I have is a t-shirt. The irony is, the shirt says, "Too Sweet". Oh, what fun!
By the time the appointment has ended, Sam has not had a proper exam. Major parts of her went without being looked at. She did not cooperate during any part of the appointment. We visited the bathroom twice, neither time she actually went. I had to bribe her to get on the scale and to stand against the wall for her height. She did however, think the eye exam was fun and was game for that.
We had the drs sole attention for over an hour. I filled her in on everything Sam-related, all the while Sam screamed and acted like a raving lunatic. I asked the dr if this reaction was considered normal and she said, "No. It is extreme." My last question to the dr was, "When can we start medicating?" The dr said, "Sam is way too young to medicate. I strongly do not recommend it."
I saw the nurse on the way out and thanked her for all her help. I told her I hope we don't have to see her again until the Fall for flu vaccines. That's always a fun time too.
Sam left the appointment wearing her back-up t-shirt. She only agreed to put it on, if she could wear it backwards. Whatever. Since I had nothing for to wear on her bottom, we jimmy-rigged her sweater and wrapped it around with the opening on the side. She seemed ok with this as there was no other option. Once we made it to the car, she flipped out again and refused to put on the pair of shorts I had stowed there. "I DON'T WANT TO LOOK LIKE A BOY!!!!" I could care less if she even put on anything. I was fine with her driving home with nothing on. But it mattered to Sam. After another 15 minute screaming battle, she put the shorts on. Within 5 minutes of driving back home, Sam crashed hard and fell asleep. Ah, finally some quiet.
We get home a few minutes before Jeff. We were meeting him at the house to take his car and drop it off for service. I run inside to grab a drink and the phone rings. Without looking at the caller ID (I honestly thought it was Jeff calling), I answer the phone and hear that it is some Conservation Fund Group wanting something or another. I politely answer with, "This is not a good time in my life to talk to anyone unless I absolutely have to." All she could say was "Sorry" and hung up. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment