Wednesday, January 19, 2011

To the Doctor!

Tristan woke up in the middle of the night last night claiming his ear hurt. We gave him some Tylenol and hoped he had just slept on it wrong. My gut told me this wasn't the case, but I remained hopeful. Sure enough, his ear hurt worse this morning. So I made the dreaded call to the doctor's office to get him an appointment.

We got there and waited. Luckily there weren't that many kids there and I think we only had to wait 4 hours instead of the usual 4 days. Or so the kids seemed to think of the wait.
We got into the examining room and waited. The kids read books and complained. At the same time .. they're multi-talented like that.

Our beloved doctor finally came in. He was the pediatrician to both myself and Justin along with our siblings and my cousins. I don't always agree with him but I trust him.
He began looking Tristan over. It was an ear infection. Left ear was nasty and right ear was getting it too. There could have been no infection yesterday morning, this was a quick acting, nasty little bug. He patted Tristan on the belly and announced that he "has the crud."
He looked at me and asked if he'd been sick. I told him he'd had a cold and was taking a while to fight it completely off. He's like me, things can linger. He looked at me and asked how long he'd had it.
"I dunno, a while?"
"How long?"
"A couple of weeks?"

I hate that look. I really hate that look. It's that look that says "What kind of mother are you that you let your child be sick for weeks and didn't bring him to the doctor?!?" ... Um .. because he wasn't really sick the whole time??
That look says he doesn't believe me. I hate that look.

About the time that Tristan was 7 months old he had gotten a bad diaper rash which meant I had to go to the doctor.
It was a bad day from the beginning. He had peed through his cloth diaper the night before and I had bathed him clean in the sink. Apparently though I didn't get his head well enough and by the end of the day he .. well, smelled like a pee-head.
The appointment was late in the day, meaning we had a long, long wait. He was hungry, not feeling too happy, and whiny ~ it was the international melt-down hour. My pee-head son was NOT his happy-go-lucky self.

The nurse called us back and we went into the examining room. I had to undress him down to his diaper to be weighed and measured. I took him to the scales. Pee-head sat there a little more content. It was then the nurse noticed the scabby-like marks on his back.
"Bite marks??"
~umm .. I think she about fell over at this point. I'm pretty certain her mouth did hit the floor and her eyes popped out of her skull~
"Look, he has an older brother who is 2 1/2. He keeps biting him. We're working on getting him to stop" I tried reassuring her and explaining the true situation to her.
"Oh. Yea, I had a biter too." Now she was talking to me like the mom she truly was.

So we go back into the room and wait for the doctor. Not our beloved doctor, another doc we'd never seen who was on call and seeing people who were making the last minute appointments.
He came in and looked the diaper rash over.
"How long has he had the rash?"
"Well, he's had the rash for a while, but it started getting worse so I brought him in."
"How long has he had it??"
"I dunno, a week or two??"
There was that damn look again.
And my kid had healing bite marks on his back.
And he had Pee-Head.
And, as the doctor soon told me, he had a "regular" diaper rash that had then gotten infected. He gave me a prescription for some cream. I went out of there, my little Pee-Head tightly in my arms, as quickly as I could. I was certain they would call Social Services.

I hate those damn looks. I don't like running to the doctor immediately over every little thing. Which means we give things the unthinkable .. TIME to heal on their own (or with a little a little over the counter medicine, etc). But, when I finally take him into the doc, they give me that damn look. I also NEVER know the EXACT moment my kids get sick. Sorry, but I don't keep that stuff jotted down.

I hate that damn look.

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