The Waiting Room

Seinfeld has a whole bit about Dr.'s offices and the waiting rooms and all that and it's soooooo true. Yesterday, I went in for my annual invasive procedure. I waited with baited breath knowing that it was going to be totally uncomfortable but I would get through it with the usual humor and sarcasm. My experiences with doctors and this procedure have always yielded great blogs. Anyway, I waited and waited and after an hour of waiting and trying to entertain a two year old and make sure she doesn't pee on the rug, they put me in the next waiting room and then... they came in (I've been there for an hour and a half), the nurse comes in a tells me that the doctor is delivering a baby. "Your choices are: Wait for her to get done, or reschedule." Duh, I'm going to reschedule! What a let down... after all that waiting, nothing. Kinda like being the kicker for a football team. Game winning kick coming up in
3
2
1...
Just kidding! TIME OUT! Now you have to wait again.

Anyway... Today, I took Cate to the doctor and we waited again... for shots. I hate babies getting shots. Especially my baby. I cried when Abby got them and I cried again with Cate. Three sticks in the little chubby legs (she's in the 90th percentile in weight and height... chunky monkey) and she screamed bloody murder. I was sooooo sad for her. We cried together and she was to upset to eat so I just held her. She is still whimpering and it's been several hours. I think she's going to hate me forever.

Breaking the Rules

Last night, Abby was running to watch Clifford and have her hair put in curlers when she took a tumble. That is pretty typical so I didn't react but then she really started crying and I went over to comfort her and then I saw the blood. It was everywhere. She had hit her mouth on the coffee table and split her lip open on the inside. She bled FOREVER and I almost cried myself. We got her cleaned up but I couldn't stop thinking about her injury. I just naturally worry like any parent. I thought about taking her to the emergency room because she might need stitches but we held off.

Today was Freshman church service and my pediatric dentist was in the congregation watching his daughter lead in worship. He usually goes to a different church. Now my rule is to never have an appointment with a professional outside of their office if I can help it. If I'm really desperate, I will call them at home and ask a question then make the appointment for office hours. I have been sitting next to an ophthalmologist when someone blocked him into the pew and said with upturned head, "Is this normal?" as they practically popped their eye out of the socket. I sat and watched when my friend, a radiologist, was bombarded in a restaurant by a colleague who wanted his toe looked at. "Should I have this x-rayed?" Therefore, I try and stay in the office with my appointments.

Today I broke the rule. I stopped the dentist in the parking lot and asked him to look at Abby's gums. They were still black and blue this morning and she was poking at them. He said she was fine and was VERY gracious. I guess when it comes to your children looking like they are from some European, socialist dental plan country or talking to the dentist in the church parking lot, you choose to throw the rules out the window. Thank you, Dr. Campbell.

We did do the curlers and she slept on them nicely. Here's how her hair turned out!