There’s never a day that goes by around here without some kind of excitement or another. I told you it was the Gym Rat’s birthday the other day. We have a tradition that on your birthday, you get to choose what you want to eat for dinner (within reason, of course). He chose steak and potatoes, an expensive but acceptable choice. He even offered to make the potatoes himself, commenting that he had a new recipe he wanted to try out. That was great with me. I don’t really like cooking anyway and if he made the potatoes and my sweetie cooked the steaks on the grill, the only thing left for me to do was open a few cans of corn.
We had planned dinner at 6:30, but he showed up late with a bag of potatoes. After looking at his recipe, he realized that he was supposed to bake the potatoes before he fried them. By then the steaks were almost done and all of the other food was just sitting. So he threw the potatoes into a skillet and with a little help from Bossy, soon they were steaming and about ready to go.
Because we were already running behind schedule and we had friends coming over for cake, we put all the food on the table and quickly gathered the family. After a 10-second prayer, everybody dug in. (It didn’t help that there were about three minutes left in the Super Bowl and it was still anybody’s game. ‘Grats to the Packers – to my son-in-law, "You were right again, but don’t let it go to your head!")
Anyway, my 14-year-old Princess took a big bite of those yummy steamy potatoes, not realizing how hot they were. She choked and breathed and tears streamed down her face as they burned all the way down. When cold water didn’t soothe the ache, I gave her a popsicle. That helped some and eventually she rejoined the party. Fast forward to the next morning. About 10:30 she texted me that her throat hurt. So I called the doctor’s office and waited impatiently for the next 20 minutes until they called me back. Yes, she could swallow, no, I didn’t ask about her pain scale (someday I’ll tell you how much I hate the pain scale!), and a half dozen other questions that I didn’t think to ask her. So I hung up the phone and after another 20 minutes of furious texting, I called the doctor’s office again.
This time they must have been waiting for my call because they called right back. Her pain scale, which was 6, by the way, was acceptable, but if she didn’t feel better within about 24 hours, she needed to be seen. I settled down, sent her a message that she needed to eat ice cream and yogurt, and went back to my mountain of laundry. My kids come home from school in small groups; first high school, then middle school, and finally the elementary kids. When she and the Prima Donna came in I was relieved to hear that she was feeling better and no follow up appointment would likely be necessary.
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Less than an hour later, ten-year-old Crafty bursts through the front door. Blood and snot and tears are streaming down her face. "I fell off my scooter!" she wails. I grab a cool, wet rag to staunch the flow. As I gently wipe the road rash on her cheek and upper lip, I punch the number of the doctor’s office into my phone for the third time that day. Maybe I should have gone into medicine.
What about you Mom & Dad readers? Have you ever had days like this on hold with the doctor's office all day? Do you recognize your doctor's medical assistant's voice? Has the receptionist ever joked about you setting up a tent in the waiting room? Non-parents can enter too just leave your best story about your own childhood and how you drove your parents crazy with doctor visits. Leave a comment telling me your experience and I will pick one lucky reader's story and send them one of Grandma's special quilts to help hug away those boo-boos. The give-away ends on Friday, February 18th at 11:59PM Mountain Standard Time. Share this with your friends and be sure to enable your e-mail in your profile so I can contact you if you are the winner. Contest is closed thanks for all the great entries. Winner with be notified tomorrow and announced on the blog on Monday.
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9 comments:
I am your SiL does that count for anything of stories and doctors?
I'm sure you can come up with a terrific story! Let's hear it...
this is PRINCESS AND THAT HURT SO BAD! it still hurts to swallow and cold water is almost unbearable.
umm one day i stubbed by toe three times do this count
one day I was riding my bike with friends and family back home in San Angelo, Tx (for all that don't know me that well. Its in the middle of Tx and nothing but ranches and farms surround it.) But back to my story. I was about 10 or 12 somewhere in there I think. I was riding my bike and got hit by a car and had my leg broken (Left Tibia) at a complex angle all the people who where there that day saw the Hit and run happen. I was slammed against the windshield shattering it. Still have pieces of glass in my chest from that. Thrown over the car and landed on a curb with my lower spine. Doctors to this day who saw my paper work and listened to what happened are still amazed I am alive. I was in a full length cast from toes to crotch for about a year then in a half cast toes to knee for another 6 months. I am very aware of how bad it was and everything and yes when it gets really cold or the barometric pressure gets bad I can tell you a storm is coming better than any Meteorologist can with a radar.
I caught wind of your blog from Meanestmom.blogspot. I am going to add it to my bookmarks. I love sharing the journey of motherhood with other more experienced mothers!
My doctor story is simply that as I child I am able to count on 1 hand how many times I went to the doctor for illness/disease...a sinus infection, a bladder infection, a planters wart in the middle of my heal,and a 103 fever that caused severe diarrhea. I think that is all, and I was dubbed the hypochondriac of the family...
I was sick a lot as a child. One year I missed over 40 days of school with measles, many cases of strep throat, and general flu type illnesses. The most memorable doctor trip for my parents took place when I was just five years old; I had cut my forehead open while visiting at my grandparents and need stitches-- when we returned home, I needed to get the stitches out. My parents took me to the doctor in the morning, then a few hour later that day I was just learning to ride a bike and fell and cut my forehead open in another place. Mom and Dad were a little embarrassed and argued over who would have to return to the doctor to have stitches put back in my head!
I have a little one with cerebral palsy, and so our Dr. visits are numerous-for me, though, the annoyance is paperwork! For every activity he does, or when he is reevaluated for anything for school, I have some form my poor Dr. has to fill out. I try and fill out as much as I can ahead of time for them, and they don't mind that ;)
Funny story, though. When I was little, I broke my arm-twisted the radius and ulna, looked terrible! My dad, being a scoutmaster, quickly grabbed 2 spare pieces of wood and ripped a sheet and created a splint for my ride to the ER. When we got to the ER with my huge makeshift splint, they looked at my mom and asked why we were there. My mom, jokingly said, she broke her foot. Everyone looked down at it-and she looked at them and was like, really?!?! The big splint didn't give it away? lol
I have spent the last 4 months at the doctors. The receptionists know me by the sound of my voice and all my kids by name, but my doctor can't seem to remember me. The day after I left the hospital with Kinlee I was in her office for Eric and she asked me when my baby was due. I kindly told her that she was born that sunday and being the nice girl I am left out that she had been to visit us at the hospital the day before. Good times :)
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