Poor Fiona. I had forgotten to make an appointment with our primary care pediatrician for this week to bring her up to date on her vaccinations. So, she overheard me trying to get her in during Spring Break. Her primary care doc works out of a 70's office building that is kind of skeezy, but she's an awesome doctor, plus she's across the street from our subdivision, and that's why we haven't gotten a new doctor. Anyway, Maddy gets priority appointments and we were able to squeeze her in today. We made the appointment on Monday and she has been having nightmares these last two nights about someone breaking in and shooting her in the leg. It doesn't take Sigmund Freud to figure that one out.
I put her numbing cream on her legs and we took her in this morning. After looking over her old records they determined that she needed 5. Luckily, they could put two in one and she was going to get four shots, which was what I had expected. They have added Hepatitis A since we were last in. Unfortunately, she will need a booster in 6 months and we will have to come back in. I didn't tell her that. We will be there for a flu shot anyway, so she can get it then.
During her physical her doctor wanted to know if she had ever had a TB test. I know what that entails and I told her I was pretty sure she didn't need one. She hasn't ever been out of the country and she doesn't hang out in the hospital much and we don't have someone from another country working for us. All of the while I was thinking, uh, uh, no matter what you say, we are not poking her another time today. She was prepared for four shots and that is all she's getting.
The nurse came in with her tray and said that she normally gives the shots in the arms. I don't know about other kids, but my girls have some pretty weeny arms, I wouldn't want four shots in my arms. But since we had the cream on already, she went to work on the legs. Fiona put her sweater over her face and just started crying.
That poor kid. I don't know if it would make me feel better if she put up a fight. On the one hand, it makes everything easier that she cooperates and understands. On the other, it makes me sad that at the ripe old age of 7, she's given up on being a little kid at the doctor's office. She didn't scream, struggle or yell, she just quietly sobbed to herself. It literally breaks my heart. I always tell her that she can't start because then she makes me cry too.
I forked over the $2 a shot and we headed down to Dad's office. I figured we could all go out to lunch together and have a happier day of it. Then a bunch of her friends showed up and she had a great time. They even put on their swimsuits and braved our cold pool. Right now, I can hear her screeching down the street, laughing and playing with more friends. I hope that she sleeps better tonight. I know I am glad I don't have to dread the rest of the week.
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