In recent years, like most families with young kids, we have had a disproportionate amount of doctor visits. Mostly sick and well visits to our pediatrician and my OB/GYN, but you can throw in things like urgent care, ER and overnight hospital trips as well.
Additionally, when I was pregnant, I required progesterone shots, given by my wonderful husband. Once a week I would get jabbed in the butt cheek, and the boys would pull up chairs to excitedly watch. As if getting a huge shot wasn’t stressful enough, like I want midget commentators analyzing the poke.
The upside to all this medical business is that the kids aren’t scared of doctors or hospitals one bit. Ben even got a flu shot in his leg like it was no big deal. Just a grimace. Just like Mom.
Luke and Ben love to play doctor.
Usually, they make the patient (generally, that’s me) start out in the waiting room. After a few minutes, the patient is allowed to move to the actual room where work is done on them. Then, there’s the X-ray room and the bloodwork room. Finally, the patient is told to check out in yet another room and must provide a credit card to pay for services.
I don’t like playing this game because I have to move around to a lot of different rooms.
Lately, however, they have been doing surgeries, straight up. No waiting room. I got a C-section the other day. It was wonderful. I laid there, resting for 10 minutes, while they performed the operation. I gave birth to twins. One stuffed bear and one Tigger.
It was the funniest thing ever. I told Zach about it that night. He cut me off dismissively, “Oh yeah, I got a C-section too. Except, I was a cow when they were performing the C-section on me.”
“A cow?” I spluttered.
He nodded seriously. “Yes. I was a cow. And then I was a pig and they cut the bacon out of my back.”
I got to be a sheep the next day. If you’re looking for surgery and are willing to be a farm animal at the same time, come on over.
The doctor is in.