Monday, February 21, 2011

I'd much rather have gone to a sample sale.

Last Friday was busy. I made an appointment for S to see her pediatrician because she is still complaining pretty often about her stomach hurting. And for a variety of reasons, I think she might have a urinary tract infection. I also had to take the car for an estimate after talking to our insurance company and just a bunch of other things I just was not in the mood to deal with.

So yada, yada, yada - we go to the doctor's appointment at 2, which in military time is 1:45. Now, let's establish that the day before did not end well, I was feeling harried and grouchy today, and by the time the pediatrician actually came in to the exam room, I'd explained why I thought S needed to be seen by a doctor to about four different people - who obviously do not communicate amongst themselves whatsoever.

It's also a fair statement to say that S runs a bit towards the dramatic, so she flipped between loving the attention and being really helpful, to wanting the attention and saying whatever just to keep it. Not the best situation to be in when you are trying to convince your kids doctor that you really think there is a problem.

He mashed on her belly a bit and then pronounced her as fine as far as stomach concerns went. Fair enough. Then he said he wanted a urine sample (not completely unexpected) to determine if she has a UTI. And, we needed to sit and wait for the results. Did I mention our appointment was at 2 and that T gets home from school at 3? So, time wise, this was not the ideal scenario.

The one thing that I have pretty much across the board experienced from military doctors when dealing with the kids is this: either they act like I'm a hysterical parent for bringing them in (T's delays, sensory issues, behavioral problems, various head or face smashes come to mind), or they act like I'm a horrible parent for not bringing them in sooner.  This visit I got both of those experiences in a 15 minute time span. When the doctor told me we needed to wait for the results, I explained that I needed to make sure and be home when T got off the bus. He got snappy, I got bitchy. I'll spare you that recap.

Pissy from that little exchange, S and I headed to the lab. We got the cup and the antiseptic wipes and headed into the bathroom. I have to say that the lab staff? SO much nicer than the doctor's staff. S and I go into the bathroom and I explain what needs to happen. Which was basically said this way: 'Honey, I need to get a urine sample from you, so you are going to sit on the potty and I'm going to hold this cup and when you pee, it goes in the cup and the doctors outside will test it and make sure everything is okay.'

What does S say? "Okay, Mommy. But you go potty first."

I can do that. I don't pee in her cup for obvious reasons, but I do all the other steps.

We get her settled on the potty, I'm all impressed with how well this is going, and then I put the cup under her.


She starts to wail and scream like someone is slowing pulling the veins out of her body one by one. And the bathroom is a pretty decent size and all tiled, so it just echoes like crazy.

I try to calm her down.

She scoots to the back of the toilet seat and starts kicking at me and trying to smack the cup out of my hand while screeching and yelling and carrying on...dare I say a fool. Come on, kid! You aren't even  the one having to hold the cup and best case scenario about to get peed on. Sheesh.

I'm trying to use my calm, soothing voice, but when her foot connects purposefully with my face, I lose a great deal of motivation for trying to calm her down and start to speak to her more sternly. I tell her she has to do this, I'm sure she's freaked out that I'm holding a cup under her bottom and that I'm sure she's scared because she's never done this before, but it's not the end of the world and once she pees...we are done and outta there.

How does my darling daughter reply to me?


Yeah. Good times. My head started pounding and I just wanted to curl up on the corner and cry. Seriously S?!?!?!  At no time had I been even the least bit threatening towards her other than insisting she pee in the cup before we could leave. But hurt her? No way...although the thought did appeal to me for a second or two as I contemplated whether or not rolling toilet paper around her mouth would muffle the screaming.

At that point, I was just done. If S does have a UTI? Well then, she can just live with it for the rest of the day. If she's still complaining in 24 hours about it hurting when she goes to the bathroom (which has been an inconsistent complaint compared to her stomach complaints) then we'll take her to the ER and I'll totally let them put a catheter in if she won't cooperate.

For pete's sake S - help me help you. Yowza.

I tell her to get off the potty, we are leaving. She's still screaming and crying and refusing to cooperate in any fashion. So I lift her off the potty and pull up her pants, wash both our hands, and we try to head out.

I wouldn't exactly say we were swarmed, but several lab staffers were right there looking awfully concerned. I'm assuming they weren't the least bit concerned about me. ahem.  I explain - and somehow manage to do so calmly - that she is unable to provide a sample, I have to get home before my son gets off the bus at 3, and that we'll have to try this again on Tuesday.

They try to get us to stay. They offer a different urine collection device. That's great, really it is, but she's not going to go at this point and we have to leave to be home in time.

More jabber about needing to stay, which I hear as blah blah blah blah blah. 

I take her hand and start to walk out, apologizing to all the other patients in the area about the screaming.

Someone in a white coat tells me that I cannot leave until they get a sample.

HAHAHAHAHAAAAAA. Oh yeah? Watch this pal.

And out we go.

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