I took girlie to the doctor today because she has been having pains in one of her legs at night. I would normally write it off as growing pains, but Dr. Google said that generally growing pains are in both legs and I’ve read way too many blogs about kids fighting cancer to get rid of the nagging feeling that it’s something I need to get checked out, so off we went.
Since she just turned 4 she was “due” for a well child checkup. I don’t usually bother with those once they are beyond the age of 2 because I always feel like there’s more risk of picking up a nasty bug from going to the doctor than the benefit of getting a general checkup, but it made it easy to get an appointment. Camille asked if she would have to get any shots and since I’m all about honesty I told her that she might, but that we would go get ice cream afterward as long as she
co-operated.
I should have lied.
See that teary, nervous face? The entire time we were at the medical clinic she swung between whimpering and nervous blubbering giggles. The corpsman said he couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.
I even told her that no shots were ever given in that room (Truth. We have to go to the immunization clinic for shots) but it didn’t matter. She was wound up so tight none of it registered.
At the well child visit they try to evaluate if your child is progressing normally. There was no way for them to tell when this is the face she gave in response to every single question.: What is your name? small mewing noise How old are you? whimper Can you scribble on this piece of paper for me? head down, bites on fingers
Caleb and I hopped around the room on one foot hoping she would copy us — she wouldn’t budge. (They wanted to check her coordination and balance.) You can’t make people hop.
I told them she was “normal,” but I’m a bit doubtful of that myself. She’s tall and solid for her age (75% for both height and weight), but the coffee drinking, ballet dancing, song singing, movie watching, teenager-in-a-preschooler’s-body personality wasn’t on display today.
She wasn’t any better when the doctor came in. She let her look in her ears, but wouldn’t move her legs or point to where it hurt, or answer any questions. When the doctor asked me to take off her leggings so she could check her joints, she actually started pulling her shirt down to cover her underwear. Like she has a modest bone in her body. This is the same girl who two nights ago was running around our front yard naked and playing a ukulele.
10 pm, the party’s just starting.
Thankfully, the doctor said that growing pains can be present in only one leg (thanks a lot, Dr. Google) and it wasn’t anything to be concerned about unless they get worse, blah blah blah. And after all that, the Immunization clinic isn’t even open on Tuesday afternoons because that’s when it’s reserved for Active Duty units.
Lucky girl.
She still got ice cream because I know anxiety sucks and in spite of the pathetic results she was doing the best she could. At the end of the visit the doctor asked her one last time if she could point to the part of her leg that hurt and she half-way stuck her finger out from her clenched fist so it was almost touching her knee. It was a bit like interpreting for a monkey that “talks” using sign language. So yeah, she earned her ice cream.
(but when we go for shots I’m not giving her any warning — I think the surprise attack is the way to go. And I might have to be armed with suckers since she asked if she could scream . . .)