Although the title of this post suggests that we spent the whole day at the pediatricians office, we did not. But 2 hours with a one year old sure felt like we were there all day long. The following is the tale of how we survived the longest office visit of our lives (just barely).
9:50 a.m. was the time of the appointment. We arrived just four minutes early, 9:46 a.m. to be exact. My little girl has always hated the frequent appointments to the pediatrician for well-child checks, and I assumed this one would be no different. I did not realize just how long the agony would last when I walked in and put our name on the list. There were others waiting patiently each that came before me were called back one by one. Soon those that arrived after me were being called back. I was the only one left in the waiting room. I thought it was strange but my daughter was playing with the toys and I knew this was the calm before the storm. I would much rather wait in the lobby for a bit longer than wait in the room with a naked baby. Soon the next group of patients started to file in and sign in. At this point I was getting a little antsy because we had been waiting for quite some time-30 minutes just seemed too long for a well child check up. I was sure I would be the next to be called but I was not. As they started calling these new patients I wondered if I had been forgotten. I felt a knot in my throat form and thought momentarily that I might cry. My brain was telling my throat and feelings that it was okay, I was really not in any time crunch, but I did want to get home sometime that day. Finally after 45 minutes I walked to the counter and asked what exactly was taking so long. The lady went back and found my doctor had been tied up with a patient that came in with a severe rash that morning. Just my luck. I waited 15 more minutes, an hour total, before the nurse came to get me. I was relieved that we were finally getting back to get checked out, although a little perturbed that people that came in after me were already leaving the office.
In the back room my goober broke down immediately. She hated every minute of being weighed and measured. She cried loud and hard in my arms. Soon the initial measurements were taken and we were left alone in the room. I worked hard to calm my daughter down but just as we were feeling a bit better the doctor came in and more tears were shed. The doctor tried lots of things to make her feel better but she was just not having it. I was wishing he would just do his doctor thing and get in and get out so we could be one step closer to going home. He pulled out a lollipop and unwrapped it for the goober but she was not interested. After he had done his check she stuck it in her mouth and followed by sticking it down my shirt, leaving a wet sticky red mark on my brand new white undershirt. The doctor proceeded to tell me about keeping her safe while she was wailing in my ear. He also told me not to worry about her crying. I was not worried about her crying, I knew she would cry, but you know when someone tells you not to worry and then you feel worried because you were already not worrying. That is how I felt. He finally left. We were almost to the home stretch. A few shots and a toe prick and we would be free. Luckily it took forever for the nurse to get back to our room for these fun things. The toe prick couldn’t have gone worse. There was blood everywhere and lots of tears. The vaccines were as expected, traumatic. In the end we got to wait even longer for the results of the blood test and as we exited the building I noted that we had just spent over two hours in that building. We left with a bit of knowledge and protection from deadly diseases, but not much else. Oh wait, I also left with a lollipop stain!
It was just one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days (or two hours in my case). And just like alexander’s mom says, “some days are just like that.”