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Friday, June 10, 2011

Going to the Doctor

I took our sons to their pediatrician's walk in hours this morning. Alone.

I hate that.

Those two are like Tazmanian Devils tearing through the waiting room. I guess, well, it's because they can't wait. Our older son unplugs the fish tank and then opens the top in order to dip his hand into it. Younger son screams his commentary. Then older son dashes for the front door while I plug the tank back in.

Our younger son is carrying his new iPad, and he wants to make sure everyone knows it. "I WONDER IF THIS WAITING ROOM HAS WIFI? I SURE DO NEED WIFI CONNECTIVITY RIGHT NOW," he shouts as the poses with his new toy. "I'D BETTER GET OUT MY PASSWORD IN CASE THEY HAVE WIFI HERE AND I'M ABLE TO DOWNLOAD SOME MORE APPS..."

Anybody? Any takes? Anyone looking?

Older son doesn't give a flip about WiFi or apps. He's gone behind the bloody front desk. SONOFAGUN!!!!!

I think they call us back out of pity for everyone around us, but this is the part that I truly don't like. This office is terribly slow, and we find ourselves sitting in a tiny, hot examining room for far too long before a doctor walks in. Usually, our boys have little clothes on, which is bad enough without sensory needs. With it, well, it makes it go downhill pretty fast.

Today I was having them check our older son for anything that might be causing his screaming. Perhaps I was missing something. Figuring out his health needs is like figuring out the needs of an infant, and sometimes I just need a sounding board to make sure that I'm on track.

"Shirt, please," our older son said after about three minutes of sitting shirtless in the room.

"Doctor first. Then shirt," I told him.

Our younger son's nose is still in the iPad. "I'll start showing him Pokemons," he said. "That will distract him."

The problem is that Pokemons don't make nice noises. They are high-pitched, annoying creatures. And, not just this worn out mommy thinks so. Just ask our older son. He may be non-verbal, but his body language says it all! He curls up in the fetal position and covers his ears with his hands. I try to get our younger son to stop, but he has shut me out completely.

Our older son starts to cry. He races for the door. I jump up and block. So, he does the next best thing, flicks the lights. On. Off. On. Off. Of. Off. On. Off.

Hello, migraine. I don't think we've seen each other since the last time I was here.

Our younger son LOVES this, so he starts doing a freeze dance to the lights, whooping along the way. He decides to kick of his shoes, also, and the shirt is not far behind. It"s a freeze light strip tease.

Our older son doesn't enjoy the younger son's antics. He tries the door again and gets mad that my foot was jammed there. That's when the crashing starts. Run and crash into one wall. Run and crash into another. Run and crash into the first wall. Run and crash into the second.

Yes, I do try to stop this train wreck with a multitude of things, but they obviously don't work. When the doctor finally comes in, a partner of our regular pediatrician, I note with horror his youthful face and crisply starched dress shirt. He sure doesn't look like someone who dug in there and did the dirty work with our kids.

I politely tell him that we were in meltdown mode, but my words aren't needed. Our older son demonstrates by pulling down his pants and urinating on the wall. The doctor literally gasps.

By this point, physical exams are very difficult. Our son isn't about to let a stranger touch him without a battle. He yanks the doctor's stethoscope out of his ears. When the doctor tries to feel his...um...testicles, our son made a game effort to kick the doctor in his.

And would you believe, the second we left that office, the child is as calm and quiet as can be?!!

Call me crazy, but I think that it is time for some modifications to our visitations to the pediatrician's office. These visits stress me out. But, please, nobody tell that to the kids. Once they know that they've won, then the real trouble will begin!

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