Sick (and tired)
I seem to forget from year to year how horrible early winter is. Well, it's denial is what it is. So much sickness! I am at the doctor every week for something. I try not to get worked up over it because it's normal, but then at night I start wondering where all the time went and why I'm so tired.
A doctor's visit with a small child is a nightmare. First you sit in the waiting room, then the nurse appears, a sign of hope: maybe this time it will be quick. But no, she takes you to the doctor's room, checks the wiggly kid's vitals and then smiles sweetly chirping "The doctor will be right with you!" as she locks you up for about twenty minutes in a tiny room, with a thousand non-child-proofed cabinets full of sterile medical supplies all in a toddler's height, as well as a super-fun trash can full of germed-on waste, of course with an unsecured lid - oh and also a swirly twirly little stool that can be spun around endlessly. All you childless people you have no idea, NO IDEA what form of torture this is. I have reached amazing new heights of aggravation and rage inside those rooms only to have to stifle the urge to scream repeatedly because outside that door is a swarm of health professionals and - gasp - other mothers, who will judge me, judge me immediately even though they themselves are ready to throw their wiggly toddlers out the window.
And then the doctor finally appears only to ask me all those same questions the nurse asked me and then floats away within minutes promising again that "the nurse will be with you in a minute"... At that point my child is a perfect mess of frustration and boredom, the ideal state to have his thighs jammed with needles. And then we get back into the car and drive all the way to the pharmacy where we wait yet again...
There are many things I could say about my job, but on some days I think the best way to describe it would be "Waiting for my kids to grow up." Because really it's what it is. I do all these things so that one day I don't have to do them anymore. The special days of fun and happiness and subsequent amazement and the wonder of it all are true and necessary... but those other "empty" days of waiting and more waiting and feeding medicine and keeping them from kiling themselves with their crazy stunts are what really counts. At least that's what I feel when find myself stepping outside of the moment and think what the heck am I doing? Trying to entertain an 18-month-old in a 10 x 10 foot cell with a wooden stick (tongue depressor google calls it) for thirty minutes straight?
I'm just keeping them alive until they can take care of themselves one day. Also, I write it down, so I have things to blackmail them with one day.
Posted at 11:43 PM on November 25, 2009
Hello, I'm a nurse student and this post is very helpul to me. Thank you!
Not only to blackmail them later, but one day your little girl will be able to read them and will be amazed at her mother's honest and real perspective of her childhood that she will remember so differently. She may have babies of her own, and she'll be inspired to get through the day the way her mother did while making it seem like it took little or no effort at all. You're an amazing mother, Dinka, and one day they might just thank you for it!
I agree with the Hayleigh post.
Dinka, you are SO RIGHT. Wow, I have shivers (bad ones) just thinking about our next doctor visit.