I went to see my family doctor last week for my annual exam. I had hoped to leave the three year old at home but alas, my husband was golfing, leaving me on my own to deal with a speculum and a curious toddler.
I’m sure I’m not the first to tell this tale; the sordid story of a woman in a paper gown chasing a rangy child around a doctor’s office. There’s only so much you can do to entertain a child in a tiny uninteresting room. I stand corrected. Uninteresting to me but UNBELIEVABLY interesting to a child — the drawers, the dirty garbage can, the doctor’s phone, the curtain, the wheelie stool — all extremely intriguing.
Suddenly my daughter disappeared behind the curtain. Moments later the curtains parted to expose her tiny hand now sporting a rubber glove. Apparently I would be entertained by some sort of makeshift puppet show. Thankfully the doctor appeared because the KY jelly was dangerously in reach of the “stage.” God only knows what the Second Act would bring.
My daughter loves our doctor. So do I. She is kind, compassionate and a snappy dresser. Did I mention I was wearing a paper robe? How embarrASSing. My girlie climbed up into the doctor’s arms and I climbed onto the table where I assumed “the position.”
Avery was fascinated by this whole scene. At one point her head was dangerously close to her origins, so to speak. Then she got bored and decided to open the door. Why not give everyone in the hallway a good look at the place from whenst she came?
So there I was helpless abd trapped on the table, impaled and fixed to the spot. Thankfully there was very little traffic in the hall and the doctor kindly rolled her wheelie stool over to shut the door. But yet I am still slightly traumatized.
Mental note: Next time I have a doctor’s appointment and my spouse tells me he’s going golfing, I’m going to ask him to lie down while I probe him with his sand wedge while the neighbours watch through the window.