Did you ever have one of those days? You know, when things don’t go quite right and on this day, of all days, you just don’t handle these things with your usual aplomb?
A day like, let’s say a Sunday, of Labor Day weekend, and your family is at a cookout and your 2 ½ year old son is on the swing set and you happen to notice that his right leg from the knee down is blue.
And it just doesn’t seem right.
So you call the pediatrician, who, of course, isn’t your regular pediatrician because it’s the Sunday of a holiday weekend. You get the on-call pediatrician who doesn’t know you or your son and is kind of attitudinous (yes, that’s a word) with you because he, too, is probably enjoying a picnic or cookout of his own and doesn’t (really) want to be bothered.
But he listens to your story and starts asking more questions.
Lots of the same, repeated, unnecessary really smart doctor-y questions that you have, yes you have haven’t yet answered.
After thoroughly explaining the situation, my concerns, the background, my attempts at diagnosing the problem and about 15 minutes of dismissive and “I don’t really want to deal with you” attitude from the doctor I am more than a little agitated.
The conversation begins to deteriorate on my end and the doctor continues the questioning (and my answers become the soundtrack to the party as I get progressively louder and eventually drown out the music, or at least it seems that way…)
“Like I SAID, I just noticed his leg is blue.”
“Nope, NOT the whole thing, just BELOW the knee.”
“Nope, it’s NOT paint. I KNOW what paint looks like.”
“Nope it’s NOT chalk, I KNOW what chalk looks like.”
“Yup, I tried to wipe it off, IT’S STILL BLUE.”
“IT’S NOT RIGHT!”
“Can you just LOOK at it?”
“I’d like you to look at my son’s leg.”
“Ummm, yes. It’s BLUE!”
At this point I’m so frustrated, I’m crying. Thinking, I guess, that if it’s a circulation issue it really should be taken care of quickly and time’s-a-wasting while I’m on the phone arguing with the doctor. I just want him to listen to me and check out J’s leg.
At some point he says, “Why are you crying? What exactly would you like me to do here?”
And I say (shout), “I WOULD LIKE YOU TO STOP BEING SUCH A CONDESCENDING F*^&ING A$$HOLE AND STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE I’M AN IDIOT AND LOOK AT MY SON’S LEG!!”
Apparently that outburst let him know just what kind of crazy he was dealing with. We made arrangements for him to meet my husband and J at his office so he could figure out what was wrong. (Is anyone surprised I didn’t bring him myself?)
Forty-five minutes pass and I get a call from Greg, “Don’t worry, he’s fine, we’re on our way back. I’ll explain it when I get there.”
I’m relieved but cannot imagine what happened, what did the doctor find out? What’s going on with J’s leg? My mind is racing.
My husband returns to the party and pulls me aside.
He tells me the doctor has determined it was not life threatening, there was no circulation problem; J was going to be okay.
“So, what did he do? What is it? How did he figure it out?”
Through a smirk and eyes a little bit teary from trying to hold back the laughter, my patient, calm and kind husband says, “He wet a paper towel and wiped away the blue Popsicle stains.”
This post is a follow-up to my review of The Mother of All Meltdowns. You could win your very own copy of MoAM The Book by entering below. If you don’t win you could also purchase a copy on Amazon. Facebook and twitter links are included in the entry form.
Thanks for visiting “So, I’ve Been Thinking…” I’d love to hear about your meltdown in the comments!
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