a girl, a guy, a tomato, a bean, and a bear

Monday, July 13, 2009

You can shoot her up, but you can't keep her down.

My poor baby. She had her one year well-visit today and received FIVE shots. Three in one tiny leg, and two in the other. I'm not going to go down the vaccination debate path (we've chosen to follow the prescribed schedule as reccomended by our doctors) but it does seem cruel to give such a tiny person so many shots all at once.

She really handled the whole experience like a pro. Actually, I think I cried before she did. I had an embarassing Michele-breaks-down-in-public-after-VERY-little-provocation moment. I undressed E for the customary weigh in and measurement and (very understandably in my mind) she began to cry as I lay her on the exam table. It's a scary thing to be stripped naked and laid under florescent lights on crinkle paper! I don't blame her in the least for losing her cool, but the tech/nurse guy (whatever) looks over his shoulder and says to me, "She doesn't spend much time away from you, does she?" with a (perhaps imagined) hint of judgement in his voice.

"Why do you say that?" I shot back.

"Oh, just because she reacts that way." he replied.

And then I was all upset. When will I stop being so sensitive about the offhand comments of complete strangers? So what if I'm her primary care giver? So what if she finds comfort in me? It's a perfectly normal and natural phase that children go through at this time in their lives to be clingy (hello, separation anxiety?). And of course then it doesn't help that he takes her measurements and after going to record them on the chart looks concerned then comes back with the tape measure to measure her head circumference once more.

"It's nothing to be worried about," he says, looking worried. "I just wanted to double check I had it right." In addition to having an apparently big head (above 95th percentile), E weighs in the 15th percentile and measures in the 25th.

When we saw our doctor, I kept it together until he asked me if I had any concerns. I started welling up a bit (HOW embarassing--go ahead, try looking not hysterical and obsessive as you cry while complaining about being made out to be overbearing and hyperprotective) as I explained the tactlessness of the nurse-man. Our doctor was very comforting and said that the nurses aren't pediactric nurses, so any observations they make are based on their own personal opinions. He went on to say that Evie's big head, in his opinion, indicates high intelligence, and that her measurements and weight are well within healthy range and that he much prefers to see children on the low end rather than the high, as is so often the case in America these days. He said she's looking fantastic and was amused (and a bit disgusted) by the carrot-baby story at the Krankenhaus. (One of the first things he said to me upon examining her was, "This orangish coloration is perfectly normal and comes from carrots. Do not worry about it.")

After the exam and FIVE shots, we also needed to go have her finger pricked so that routine bloodwork could be done. Evie was fine through all of this, although she wanted to be carried rather than put in her stroller. (All the while I'm thinking sarcastically in my head, "She doesn't spend much time away from you, does she?") After this we headed back to the car. By this point Evelyn has already ripped off the bandaid on her recently punctured finger, and after I got her settled in her carseat began work removing the FIVE bandaids on her little legs. I pulled over in the parking lot (I had already begun making for the exit) to take the bandaids from her so she wouldn't eat them. When I twisted back around in my seat, however, I discovered that my ID card (required to gain entrance on post) had fallen from where I had lodged it in my lapbelt and was nowhere to be found. Great. As I looked for it, Evie fell asleep in the back almost instantly and my anxiety increased as I imagined having to wake the baby to go through some ridiculous rigamarole in order to get on post if I couldn't find the darn ID.

It took me five minutes of crawling around on the floor board and looking in every possible crevice (of course I chose to wear a skirt today...) before I finally found it. Whew.

Evie woke when I carried her inside, but fell asleep almost instantly. She woke again when the phone rang, but again fell immediately back to sleep. She's still zonked (an hour an a half now...). Poor B.


Kyla said...

Your poor sweetie girl! I hate shots (and blood draws, anything involving a kid and a needle, really). KayTar had labs drawn two weeks ago (it was terrible, they had to stick her twice) and she has to get more done this week. I'm dreading it already.

Glad she is right on track. Shame on that nurse for worrying you without cause! They really should know better, even if they aren't pedes nurses.

Related Posts with Thumbnails