With the Opening in the Back

Do you know what I hate more than emptying the dishwasher?

More than putting the folded clothes away?

More than Open House at school?

More than chaperoning field trips and jury duty and even more than…Caillou?

I hate taking my kids to the doctor for their fucking physicals.

Why?

Well, because of what happened when I went this time.

And then there was today.

Today was Number 3’s yearly check up.

It was at 9:30.

I got to the office a little bit early in the hopes that we would get out on time, because I had to get home to teach a swim lesson at 11:00.

The nurse called our name promptly at 9:30 and brought us into an examining room.

She weighed Number 3 and measured his height.

She asked me all the usual questions.

Then she had him go pee in a cup.

And she tested his vision.

It was perfect.

So far so good.

Next, she had to get some blood.

She pricked his finger and squeezed.

And squeezed.

And squeezed.

And then, the took out…

the robe.

“Take off all your clothes except for your underpants and put this on with the opening in the back,” she said to Number 3.

And she left the room.

Number 3 looked at me.

And he started bawling.

“I’m not wearing any underpaaaaaaaaaaaants,” he cried.

Fuck.

Not again.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “You can keep your shorts on.”

“Why do I need to just have underpants on?” he asked, still crying.

“IS HE GOING TO LOOK AT MY PENIS???”

“Um… yes?” I answered, flinching.

“MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM! WWWHHHYYYYYYYYY?”

He was bawling again.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY PENIS???” he yelled.

“Nothing is wrong with your penis. The doctor just has to check it out really quickly,” I told him. “Just like he checks all the other parts of your body.”

The crying slowed down.

“Mom, my finger really hurts,” he said to me.

“You’ll be okay,” I told him.

I tried to change the subject.

“Hey Mom, do you want to see my prick?” he asked me.

Ummm…. WHAT?

I pretended I didn’t hear him.

“Look how big my prick is,” he said.

I looked over at him. Cringing.

He was showing me his finger.

Oh.

That prick. Phew.

I gave him my phone to distract him.

We waited.

And we waited.

And we waited.

It was now 10:05.

10:15.

10:22.

10:30.

At 10:37 when there was no sign of the doctor, I went out to the nurses’ station.

“We’ve been waiting for an hour and seven minutes,” I said. “I need to be somewhere in 23 minutes.”

“I’m so sorry,” one of the nurses said. “The doctor got stuck at the hopsital. He should be with you soon.”

“Do you know how soon? Because I really need to be somewhere kind of immediately,” I told her.

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” the nurse said.

“Can’t we just leave?” I asked. “You have all the blood and the pee and the measurements, and I answered all the questions. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s totally healthy,” I said to her.

I was trying not to be a bitch, but I was getting pissed.

“I’m sorry, but we must have the evaluation,” the nurse said.

“Would you like to come back at a more convenient time?” she asked me.

“Ummm, seeing as I’m here RIGHT NOW, this would be the most convenient time,” I told her.

“Coming back a second time would not be more convenient.”

I was getting a little bitchy. But I wasn’t yelling.

I went back to the exam room.

Shockingly enough, a physician’s assistant miraculously had an opening in her schedule and showed up 45 seconds later.

She checked out Number 3 in about 17 seconds, told me he was in perfect health, and we got the hell out of there.

Next up for physicals are Number 5 and 6, and this time I will be prepared for multiple forms of pricks.

And I’ll be sure to pack extra underpants.

 

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