Because the few times I have, several days later my child comes down with a fever- and ends up with a fever virus from the germs she contracted from her well-visits.
Even if your doctor's office has a separate waiting room or separate sick rooms, it never fails- parents bring their 'well' children to the office already sick. Because let's face it, kids are sick all the time with runny noses, colds, ear infections, fevers, you name it. It's not until they get into the clean, well visit-non sick rooms that they tell the nurse, "oh, well he also has a fever today." And then they run around and play with all the toys, the toys my child will pick up and play soon after that.
So yesterday I took my child to the doctor for a sick visit, because her eye looked infected like she maybe had a piece of dirt in there- Not pink eye contagious, just a little red. And so we were taken to a 'sick room.' She wanted down so bad, wanted to play with the dazzling toys and books on the shelves but I stuck to it and did not let her down.
What did I do?
I sang to her 'Wheels on the Bus", "Pattycake" and any other song I could think of. I am sure the people in the other rooms next door must have thought I was nuts (the walls are usually thin enough to hear someone singing as bad as me!).
But it worked!! Yay! Turns out my child has a stye in her eye. Nothing serious, but hopefully she will stay well after the visit yesterday.
And I ran across some pretty funny pictures that about sum up how I feel about doctor visits. These are from a blog I love, Crappy Pictures. Enjoy! They are LOL funny!
well-child doctor visits...illustrated with crappy pictures™
I hate well-child doctor visits. Especially once I started noticing that my kids would get sick approximately 48 hours after their well-child visits. Every. Damn. Time.
Oh sure, the waiting room has a designated "reserved for healthy kids" section but it is sort of like the division of smoking and non-smoking sections in an enclosed space.
So we had a well-child appointment for the baby and I was determined that no matter what, they were NOT going to get sick this time.
My plan was to not allow them to touch anything. It was a good plan.
Which failed the moment my son touched the door handle. Yes, this was an obstacle I overlooked, but I was still determined to follow the original no touching plan from now on.
After all, the door handle was not my biggest obstacle. It was the bookshelf.
The bookshelf has three levels. The top two shelves are a jumble of books with tattered and sticky pages. The bottom shelf houses toys. The bookshelf is usually surrounded by kids who most likely have the plague.
Every mother knows that when your child is sick he gets to play with the toys. When your child is not sick you do everything in your power to avoid physical contact with the toys.
So my son takes a few steps toward the bookshelf while I'm signing us in.
I came prepared! I have stickers, markers, new books and even a small puzzle. Surely I have something in my bag of tricks that will interest him more than the bookshelf.
Toys. New toys! He doesn't see the green slime, the cesspool of germs. He doesn't see the sleepless nights with the whining and crying and fevers. He only sees the toys.
I have to come up with something. Fast! Must follow the plan. Time for the big guns.
The phone! I hold it out and wiggle it a little to make it even more enticing.
He takes the bait.
And so we sit for the next fifteen minutes as kids and moms are shuffled in and out of the door. My kids touch nothing. Great success, the plan is working!
Before we know it, they call us back.
I'm feeling so victorious that I don't even tell him to shut the phone off so he can walk properly. Instead, I put my hand on his head, guiding him.
So we get into the examination room. My son is still occupied on the phone. The doctor comes in and I'm busy balancing the baby on the scale.
The boy says he is done and hands me the phone. He is looking in the full length mirror.
I pay no attention to the mirror until he puts his mouth on it, doing that thing that kids do where they blow air and make their cheeks puff out.
And I notice how filthy it is. At least 20 other kids before him did this same trick.
I have him sit in the chair and I explain for the millionth time about germs and getting sick.
I even notice him nodding a bit when I say "medicine" so I knew he understood.
But there was a mistake somewhere in my lecture. Clearly.
He bent over and licked the arm of the chair. Licked it. Like with his tongue.
The arm of the chair where very sick people have sat and rested their very sick hands.
And he quite happily explained it. He loves medicine.
When I warned about medicine I was speaking from my own childhood of cough syrup that burned my nostrils. But to him, medicine is yummy and comes in fruit flavors.
Plan failed. He ate the germs. I stood there, dumbfounded and wondered if I should pour hand sanitizer in his mouth. Probably not.
On the way out I had to stop at the desk to pay the co-payment for the visit. The credit card machine wasn't working properly so they had to find their manual card swiper. It took a few minutes.
The boy got impatient and once again his gaze turned towards the taboo toys.
This time though I just shrugged. Why not? He already licked two surfaces. What are a few more germs on his hands going to do?
I believed sickness was inevitable anyway.
Over the next two days I watched him carefully, looking for signs.
But he seemed fine the next day.
And the day after that.
And the day after that too.