Thursday, 31 December 2009
Guest post from MamaTRUE
“On the way to the doctor’s office today, Cavanaugh kept repeating, “I like to be sick.”
“You like music?” I would turn the CD on.
“No, I like to be sick.”
“You don’t like the music?” CD back off.
“No, I like to be sick.”
“You like to be sick?”
“Yes. I like to be sick.”
“I like to be sick.”
My ears are still really clogged from the sinus infection so I wasn’t sure I was hearing correctly, and I really needed to concentrate on driving rather than looking back over my shoulder to try to discern what he was saying. All we’d done differently since he’d announced, “I’m sick” last night before bed is give him a little medicine and skip our music class this morning. What could he possibly like about being sick?
Then we pulled into the parking lot at the doctor’s office and Cavanaugh said, “I’m better already.”
You’re better already? I thought you said you like to be sick.” Then I got it. “You don’t want to go see the doctor?” And here’s where I wish I could have done better because I usually do a pretty good job of hearing his feelings and not just saying, “You’re okay” but our doctor is great and we haven’t had any traumatic doctor visits where he was super upset, at least since he was a baby and didn’t like being stripped naked to get on the scale. He hasn’t had a shot for 21 months, though I had thought we might catch up on some today. What could possibly have happened to make him decide he doesn’t like the doctor?
Maybe he’d overheard me talking about the shots though I’m not sure he even remembers what they are.
The problem was we pulled into the lot at the exact minute we were supposed to be checking in inside. And talking through fears and feelings takes awhile. So, I was unstrapping him from his carseat and reminding him that he likes his funny doctor who has a Tigger on his stethoscope, then his dad reminded him that the doctor finds barking dogs in his ears and Cavanaugh started scaling my body because he hates dogs, so I said, “And he looks in your ear and finds kitty cats. What does a kitty say?”
By then we were entering the office and Mike was signing us in and Cavanaugh and I started looking at the wooden mural and finding chickens and farmhouses and trains, so he was distracted and perfectly happy to be sitting on the floor there. Normally, I would have taken this time to talk through the feelings, but again, I’m just not quite back up to par today so I spaced out looking at holiday cards families had sent into the doctor’s office simultaneously wondering who thinks of that and who gets these pictures taken.
The nurse’s assistant came and called us back and Cavanaugh didn’t want to stand up to be measured. I had to hug him while pushing his feet back towards the wall. He wouldn’t stand on the scale so I sat him on the baby one, which he was maybe so surprised by that he didn’t even wiggle.
Let’s just say I feel lucky that we have a pediatrician with the best bedside manner in the world. Our doctor took ten minutes warming Cavanaugh up and getting him to trust him so he could look in his ears after a long search for them: “Is that your ear? Where’s your ear?” pointing at toes and looking under Cavanaugh’s shirt. By the end Cavanaugh was giving him high fives and asking me to put the car sticker from the doctor onto his hand.
Probably needless to say, we gave him no shots today. And boy I still can’t decide what to do about chicken pox (which last week I was sure I wasn’t go to give him) and Hep A. We thought the window for MMR’s link to autism closed at three and I recently read four. In any case, I don’t want to give him any until we get over whatever fear of the doctor has come from I know not where.
Have your kids done this, been fine with the doctor and suddenly developed a huge aversion? I’m not sure where to even begin the conversation. Any ideas?
Photo by Gont