I took Lilah to her 18 month appointment today. She is actually 20 months, but in the move she got to be a couple of months behind in her immunizations and appointments. This is our last trip to this family practice that "specializes" in pediatrics. I wasn't incredibly impressed with them the first three times we went, but I decided to give them one last attempt today.
We got to the office (which has no books or toys, only magazines for adults advertising various undesirable diseases and their treatment options) and I set Lilah up in a chair while I signed her in. "Setting her up" required giving her a cup of water and handing her a bucket. Everyday, Lilah Rose has a morning snack. It usually consists of grapes, orange slices, craisins, animal crackers, ginger snaps, or toast. This morning, it was toast with apple butter and animal crackers. Lilah is not like other children. Most children happily accept and eat their snack with relish (the emotion, not the condiment). Lilah, on the other hand, requires that her snack be presented to her in a specific small pail with birds on it and a brown ribbon handle. This is her "snack bucket". It allows her snack to become portable if she so chooses to relocate, swing it over her head, save it for later, take it upstairs, or put her water cup in it for easy transport. If you attempt to take the snack bucket, she screams. Not whines, protests, or cries. Screams. So don't ever do it.
I left Lilah to her snack while I filled out paperwork. From across the room, I heard her say, "Hi." She proceeded to greet everyone in the waiting room. She then stood uncomfortably close to an older Asian woman and sang her a song, complete with a short dance number. We were called back to the exam room and the nurse weighed Lilah, her cup, her shoes, clothes, diaper, and snack bucket. I questioned this and she told me it couldn't add much to it. Lilah had one foot completely off the scale the whole time and I know for a fact it wasn't accurate, but the nurse said it was fine. She got her O2 levels, heart rate, respirations, temperature, and pulse. Lilah wasn't impressed with this and fussed and fidgeted. The nurse did nothing to distract or entertain her, just gave up and wrote down whatever she had and said "Close enough." She left the room and I heard her tell the doctor that Lilah would be difficult to give shots to. I seethed. "The only way she'll be difficult is if she has an idiot like you giving them," I was thinking.
The doctor saw her for a few minutes and told me she might begin saying more words than "mama" and "dada" soon. I just stared at him. Lilah ran around the exam room yelling "Open a window!" and "Take off the jacket!" He watched her for a few minutes, crossed something out in his notes and told me she was cognitively 2 1/2. He also told me not to indulge in tantrums, as she would soon be testing the rules and limits. 5 minutes later, Lilah was crying pitifully because I threw away an animal cracker that had fallen on the floor and he said, "Ooooh, the poor baby! Don't cry!" I'm thinking, "Buddy, you just told me not to indulge her. You're an idiot." He spent the last few minutes trying to talk me into some unnecessary injections for her.
Him - "Hepatitis A is good to have."
Me - "Why?"
Him - "It effects the liver."
Me - "Yeah I know."
Him - "It's easy to get outside the US. Such as in Mexico."
Me - "I don' think she has plans to leave the country any time soon."
Him - "And it's orally transmitted. Babies are orally fixated."
Me - "Lilah, are you planning to lick any Mexicans?"
Lilah - "No Mama."
Me - "Well there we have it. We're all set then."
I hadn't even gotten into the car when I decided we're switching PCPs. These people have no idea how to do an assessment on a child. I miss my old doctor that spent time playing and talking with her and worked her assessment and exam in. The appointments were thorough, fun, and informative. These people got their educations at University of Phoenix, I swear to God, and I'm done dealing with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment