If you know me at all or have read this blog for some time, then you know that I am quite fond of going to the doctor. If I don't feel well, I just go to the doctor. In fact, even if I think I am about to start feeling bad, I'll probably still go to the doctor, "just in case." If I'm being completely honest, even if I am in the vicinity of someone that is under the weather, I become convinced that I have caught whatever it is they have. I will more than likely go home, self-diagnose with a little help from webMD and then call the nurse line to double check my diagnosis. I am not one of those people that tries to "tough it out." A $15 co-pay is a small price to pay for peace of mind. Does that make me a borderline hypochondriac? - maybe. Do I meet my insurance deductible every year? - without a doubt.
In all honesty, I have not always had such an affinity for doctors. In fact, I vividly remember certain experiences from when I was younger...two that stand out more than others. The first experience that I can recall is the time I had to get a strep test (you know that awful test where they basically shove an oversized q-tip down your throat) and I had no idea what was coming. I was probably 6 or 7 years old and I remember my mom taking me to the doctor. Oddly enough on the way there, she stopped at a gas station and let me pick out an Orange Fanta and a candy bar. (Do you remember this mom?!?!)
This was TOTALLY unheard of at my house. We did not get random snacks at gas stations for no reason. Oh, if only I knew...there actually was a reason that I was getting this special treatment. My mom must have had the foresight to know that our next hour would consist of screaming, crying, being held down by nurses, and a very traumatized little girl. Needless to say, that orange fanta and candy bar were well deserved by the time we left that office....and I'm sure my mom was wishing she had something to drink besides a diet coke - ha!
The second experience that I remember also features the dreaded strep test. This time, I was prepared. I could not be bribed with a gas station snack run. Oh no, I was bound and determined that I would not get "the swab." It was Halloween...which means I must have been really sick, because everyone knows that if you're too sick to go to school, then you're too sick to participate in any other activities (at least that was the rule in our family). We didn't trick-or-treat, but we did have a major Fall Festival at church where you could basically get unlimited candy...so yeah, it was a life-altering moment for me to miss out on the Fall Festival. Anyway, I remember the doctor attempting the strep test - no luck. He called in the reinforcements - still no luck. He called in even more reinforcements - and I pulled out the big guns. I screamed, I thrashed, I clinched my teeth, and you know what? I won. He finally gave in and waved the white flag. I did not have to endure "the swab." And if memory serves me correctly, my doctor felt so guilty about all that he put me through (and the fact that I was missing out on the biggest cavity fest of the year) that he gave me three candy bars....and not the fun-sized ones....real ones. That totally made all my hard work worth it!
And now, the legacy continues. Last week when we went for Libbi's one year check-up....it was an experience to say the least. Unfortunately, it looks as though my sweet girl has some fight in her as well. I believe one of the nurses referred to her as "a bucking bronco"....and I don't think that was meant as a compliment.
We started out the appointment in the usual way......
Waiting.
....and waiting....
.....and waiting.
When we finally got called back, we were able to do what else?.... but wait some more!
Libbi occupied herself by reading some books....
crawling up and down the exam table.....
eating the paper on the exam table.....
walking around the room (I know....I realize that she is barefoot and that floor is probably covered in who knows what kind of germs. But we were secluded in a tiny little room and I was getting desperate).
pushing the doctor's stool....
Finally the dr. came in and proceeded with the exam. At this point, I'm not really sure what to do. Libbi is bound and determined to walk around that room and the doctor is wanting to converse with me about all her developmental milestones. I finally gave in and just let her go.....and tried my best to listen to the doctor while keeping my eyes on Libbi. I'm sure she thought I was nuts! It was not too bad until Libbi noticed the step stool by the sink. Unfortunately, I wasn't paying close attention until I heard her make a loud, "mwah!" and I look over and she is basically making out with this step stool. I have to run and get her and drag her kicking and screaming back to my seat. After a few minutes of serious squirming, I finally put her back down....and where does she go? Yep. Right back to that wretched stool. For some reason she was adamant about giving that stool "sugars." I was so embarrassed. We went back and forth for a while....she would run to the stool, I would go get her. She would run back to the stool, I would go get her. repeat. repeat. repeat. until FINALLY the doctor was ready to move on with the exam (or maybe she was just feeling really sorry for me!)
Side note: I do believe that it says on Libbi's chart that they have yet to be able to get an accurate reading from their stethoscope. She is always either squirming, screaming, or ripping the thing out of the dr's/nurse's ears. sigh.
When it was time for the shots, the doctor left to get the nurse and she mentioned something about "needing assistance...." oh boy.
I was given the job of holding her head. Another nurse held her arms, another held her legs, and still another gave her the shots. It was awful. By the time it was all over, we were both hot, sweaty, crying messes! Of course at that point they ask me if I would like to schedule our next appointment....and I have to try very hard not to say, "sure...how about the Friday after NEVER!!!"
On the way out, I apologize to Libbi over and over, even though it's not my fault. It just feels a little like a betrayal when I am the one that escorts her into the office and then I have to assist with the restraining. Even though I know it's for her own good, it still hurts. I debate on stopping at the gas station on the way home and letting her have an orange fanta and a candy bar, but I decide on something even better.....
Chick-Fil-A.
The "christian chicken" makes everything better. Sweet girl had her some chick-n-minis and all was right with the world.
She was back to her old self in no time :)
She made sure to show her Daddy her "battle wounds" when he got home...
looks like she gets the drama from her Momma - ha!
And mom....if there had been a chick-fil-a anywhere near Dr. Tim's office, I know you totally would have taken me there before and after my strep test....but the orange fanta and candy bar was just as good! ;0)
