French Fries, Needles, and Other Medical Demands

Continuing Shane’s post about doctor visits, let me ask: do your children treat the doctor’s office like a house of horrors, or is that just Noah?

Noah has never been a fan. In his early years we practically lived there, weekly, sometimes multiple times a week. His pediatrician and I joked about a frequent flyer program. By the number of visits, I should have at least earned a free trip to Disney. Eventually, Noah caught on. The minute I pulled into the parking lot, he knew exactly where we were and would begin his protest.

Now that he is older, he skips the tears and goes straight to demands. A basic checkup earns French fries. Add a swab or a needle, and suddenly we are negotiating for chicken nuggets and a Sprite. He is the captor, I am the hostage, and McDonald’s is the ransom.

The toughest appointments are the ones with extra equipment. Blood tests, EKGs with sticky nodes, echocardiograms with slimy gel. We once sang him through an entire echo—nursery rhymes, Christmas carols, even patriotic anthems. The technician joined in. We sounded like a choir that had lost its way, but it kept Noah calm.

By the end of those visits, I am wiped out. Forget errands. Forget productivity. My big accomplishment is surviving.

Interestingly, Noah behaves much better when his dad, Shane, or my father takes him. Maybe Noah plays me. Maybe I am just the soft target. But most of the time, I am the one with the flexible schedule, so the job is mine. I am still trying to figure out how other parents manage it.