I had a ridiculously long, exhausting day and am left with very little energy to write a post tonight. So I’ll just write this little anecdote that may make you laugh. Or cringe. Or never come back again. Or possibly all of the above. Whatever, it’s one for the books and you’re the lucky ones who get to read it. No need to comment… just try not to think less of me (or Hannah), ok?
Hannah went to bed last night with a 101 fever. It was not looking hopeful for today. She woke up still warm to the touch and complaining that “her mouth hurt”. I figured she had a canker sore or chapped lips or something along those lines and blew her and her sore mouth off for most of the morning. I was too concerned with figuring out whether she’d be going to her first gymnastics practice of the season with the low fever she was sporting to put much thought into her mouth. And then, early this afternoon I saw her grimacing every time she swallowed. And I asked her, “Hannah, does it hurt when you swallow?”
“YES mommy. I TOLD you, my mouth hurts! It hurts a lot!”
“Is it your throat? Like down inside your neck?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Her first sore throat. I had no idea. She had no idea. Sore throat + fever = visit to the doctor in my book.
I packed everyone into the car and made our way to the pediatrician. Hannah chatted the entire way there about how excited she was to get a sticker for being a “perfect, brave patient”. I knew in the back of my head, there was a chance that a cotton swab/stick was going to be shoved down her throat which was not going to be pretty. She didn’t recall the last experience with the gag stick and I didn’t want to remind her.
I was right. One look into her throat and the doctor unwrapped the swabs and before Hannah could even look at what was happening, the gag reflex was upon us. And she started to SCREAM. She put both hands over her mouth to prevent any further entry and giant tears streamed down her face. “Tell the doctor that makes my throat hurt even more! Tell her I won’t allow that EVER again!” Mind you the doctor was standing right there, another swab in hand, helpless to the situation. She looked at me and said, “I’ll give you a moment with her but I need to do another swab one way or another.” And she left me with my sad, petrified, hysterical daughter.
“Hannah, sweetie, the doctor has to do one more stick in your throat. If you don’t cry and just open really wide, it won’t be so bad. I promise. And this is the only way for the doctor to know what kind of sickness you have. You really have no choice.”
“No, no, no. I like that less than anything. It’s badder than anything I’ve ever done. I don’t care if she never knows what is wrong with me. No.”
So I decided to take a different approach. Without giving it much thought (which you’ll realize in a moment), I told her my recollection of the first time she had ever had a cotton swab stuck down her throat when she was 18 months old.
“Hannah, do you want to know what you said to the doctor when you were 1 and you had this done? It might make you laugh…”
sniffle sniffle, “ok”.
“Well, after he tried to stick the stick in your mouth and you didn’t like it you said very slowly, looking him straight in the eye, your face very close to his, finger wagging, ‘No Dick In Mouf!’
Mind you, I knew Hannah has NO IDEA what a Dick is or even that such a word exists, I just knew she’d think the way she said it was funny.
And she did. She burst out laughing, wiped away her tears and *gasp* repeated it right then and there LOUDLY for all the office to hear, “No Dick In Mouf!!” and continued laughing as I tried to shush her and it was now MY turn to put my hands over her mouth.
And then the doctor re-entered, looked at us both laughing and said, “ok, then, I guess you’re ready for the next swab?” I looked over at Hannah and pleaded with my eyes for her not to say her newly learned words to the doctor. But it was too late. Out the words came. Followed by hysterical giggles. The look on the (thankfully female) doctor’s face was priceless. I explained the origin of the sentence and she (kind of ) laughed. But not really. I’m pretty sure it is now noted in Hannah’s chart that she needs some sort of counseling. But she got the “dick” in Hannah’s mouth with only a minor gag and fewer tears.
Mommy of the year, right here. At least the trip to the doctor’s was worth it. She has strep. And I think I should look for a new pediatrician.