T had a follow up visit as a result (hey, did you know if you misspell result it could turn out as reslut - which just makes all sorts of hilarity play out in my head -- seriously, two nights now I've had less than three hours of sleep) of his surgery in July. Our appointment was at 3 pm, the dr's office is about 40 minutes away and parking is impossible, so we left an hour and fifteen minutes early. We've had this appt since oh...the beginning of August. By the time I parked my van and we walked the half mile to the hospital, it was close to 3 pm.
Get to the Dr's office in plenty of time, and there's a waiting room full of people. Great. While we are waiting to check in, T goes potty in his pull up. He must have been holding it for a while because the pull up just couldn't handle the volume. I was not prepared for that since he had a fairly fresh pull up on. So now he's soaking wet and I have no change of clothes for him and no pull ups with me. We dash to the nearest bathroom (which wasn't so near) only to walk in and see that someone had make a huge mess all over the toilet and the floor in front of the toilet. EWWWW! So I grab a handful of paper towels (after first checking to make sure that there wasn't poo all over them too), take off the wet pull up and throw it away. T is unhappy that he has to go underwear free, but we don't really have a choice. I dry him off the best I can, open the door with a paper towel, and we dash back to the dr's office where I clean up the puddle on the floor. Only - there are no trash cans. oh, no! So I'm holding the wet paper towels in my hand when it's our turn to check in. We are told to have a seat in the already crowded waiting room. T isn't interested at all in sitting down in wet pants, and frankly I don't want him to get the chair wet, either, so we stand up. Well, the room is so small that in no time, the urine smell is really strong. Now, none of these folks speak English, so it's not like I can explain or apologize.
This older man opens a window and gives us a nasty look - like we are enjoying this situation. So I stand up in the tiny hallway so that we offend the least amount of people possible (still holding the paper towels in my hand and trying really hard not to think about it) and T starts begging for me to hold him. The receptionist comes over and slams her door after we've been there for a few minutes after giving us the stink eye. I don't know if that's because we smell or are standing in the little hallway. After 50 minutes, we are still waiting to be seen, people that have come in after us have been seen, T has fallen asleep as I'm holding him so now we are both damp and smell like urine, I'm still holding the towels, and T is so tall that every time I move, his head hits the wall. The next time the receptionist walks out of her office, I sigh loudly and look at the time. Passive aggressiveness at it's finest. Twenty minutes after that, we are finally seen. The doctor has me sit in the chair with T on my lap (which I totally understand) and we are done in 2 minutes. We waited an hour and ten minutes for this?!?! We are supposed to be come back in six weeks. I can't wait. On our way out without stopping at the receptionist's office to make the next appointment, we go back to the bathroom, which has not been cleaned to throw away the wet paper towels (it's the only one I know of). I carry him all the way to the car, then strip him down, wipe him off with baby wipes, douse myself with hand sanitizer, and cover him with the towel we had his car seat on. He's very unhappy about this because he has a deep sense of privacy. Poor kid.
We beat the parking meter by like 2 minutes, thank goodness, and head home. We walk in the door, he walks up the stairs, by the bathroom and into the living room, and then goes potty on the rug. Then he tries to splash in it. BOYS! I'm trying to clean the rug while keeping my daughter from running through it. She thinks this is hilarious - me, not so much. For the rest of the night, he keeps saying, I go peepee - ppsshhhhhhhhhhh. HAHAHAHAHA! So, in the land of the perpetually unbathed, it's the Americans that smell. Go figure....
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