Friday, February 24, 2006

And The Oscar Goes To...

Another milestone today--Jarrah had her first visit to the pediatrician. Of course, David and I had already gone once without her, but it was a whole new game with the actual child there. First, there was the waiting, something that even I am not good at, and Jarrah was not old enough to be diverted by the tropical fish, nor desperate enough to fight over the pre-gnawed picture books. And, in a delightful incident that is becoming thematic in my novice parenting narrative, a little boy in the seat next to me decided to show his displeasure for the appointment he'd just finished by wretching and puking, splashily enough that I had to yank my diaper bag out of his way. Ironically, because his vomit was a biohazard, I had the pleasure of sitting next to it for the better part of an hour, as well as frantically waving the unsuspecting asses of tired mothers away from the congealing mush, since the expert team who were supposed to contain the mess never showed. I was already cranky because we had to pay out of pocket for a visit that has been officially covered by insurance since the day we met Jarrah, but apparently we have to perform some sort of adoption rain dance for Health Net before they will list her as active.

The excessively delayed audience with our doctor took place right around the young miss's naptime, so you can imagine how thrilled she was to have people jamming things in her ears and palpating her belly by that time. She cried so hard I developed a preemptive headache anticipating the blood panel they were going to draw afterwards, and friends, it was indeed unpretty. The poor sweetie has such plump arms that two nurses had to dig for her vein for the better part of five minutes while she moaned and I tried not to faint from the horror of it all. When they did finally get the needle in there, it seemed they were going to empty her body of blood with the number of tubes they filled.

We took off, thoroughly traumatized, and J. fell asleep instantly, but woke in time to share our rice bowls and engage in some histrionic grunting loud enough to disturb the meals of the unsuspecting lunchers at the surrounding tables. Her performance convinced us we needed to hightail it back to the clinic and deliver our "sample" so J. could be tested for giardia. Our preparations for this procedure were epic: we had pads and bags and clothing and diapers and wipes at the ready on the car seat when I realized I had somehow lost the kit and the lab orders we had received at our appointment. Then I flipped out when David asked me WHY I had lost them. This question did not endear me to him and the tension level rose to orange. I snapped that we could just stuff the whole business into a Ziploc bag and deal with the particulars later. But then I actually opened the diaper to discover...well, let's just say that Jarrah is an impressive actress because what I found there was about enough to garnish a canape. Not enough for the cup, but I still managed to get it all over the car.

We zoomed back to the clinic so that I could grovel for another sample kit, and they were none too pleased to provide one. I also had the bizaare experience of lurking in the hallway as the receptionist I was speaking to called to a passing nurse, "This mom was here this morning and says she..." and my mind leaped directly to "I can't believe she's going to help someone else when I'm in the middle of talking to her!" In no way did I associate "this mom" with myself. Someone said recently that it could be a little like the first time I heard someone describe me as David's wife or I had to tell the man at the car repair place that my husband was coming to pick me up. I felt like an imposter then and I feel like it now. But I'll give myself a few more weeks before I decide that's too pathological.

So, my friends, the baby survived her first doctor visit, but it took four hours of our time and perhaps four years off my life. And next week I'll have the unique pleasure of driving to La Jolla to deliver a cannister of baby poop. Tune in next time for more thrilling adventures.


Anonymous said...

Oh yes. I remember that experience like it was yesterday. Did Jarrah get any shots? Ava rec'd 3-4 shots on her first visit...and every visit after that for the next 3 visits. FUN. Here's a tip. Schedule your next visit while you're waiting so you can run out of there with your screaming baby. Nothing is more fun than waiting to schedule your next appointment with a hysterical baby. Also, bring lots of snacks -it helps with the wait.

And the baby poop saga will continue if you don't refrigerate it. No one told me it had to be chilled and it was almost rejected. So make room next to the yogurt and jello! :-) BTW, what did you say you were bringing to the next potluck???


Amy said...

Wow what a day! But I have had a few winer trips to the doctor myself. As much as I love our docotr at UCSD, the wait is almost always a killer. Thinking of you guys!

Amy said...

I meant to type "winner" not winer...and "doctor" not docotr...oops!
Silly me!

Lisa Gillespie said...

Okay, we brought our stool sample in a used Zip-loc container (clean, but used). Why were they giving you a hard time about the sample cup? Also, they don't need much "sample." The canape should have been fine. Uggggh!

Sorry the wait was so long in the office: they must have been having an off day: usually we are in and out in no time :-).

Take heart: you survived!!! That will probably be the hardest visit. :-)