Eirinn had her 18 month check up this afternoon. Leading up to her appointment, I was nervous. To the point where I felt sick to my stomach and my legs were bouncing. I don’t really know why, other than experience.
Eirinn doesn’t adapt very well. She’s like a crotchity old curmudgeon; so particular. Everything has its place, things are done a certain way and any other way is just wrong. So, when put into a situation that is outside of the norm, tantrums and crustiness are likely to ensue. Her past doctors appointments have gotten progressively worse as her memory improves. She now remembers the exam room, the infant weigh station, the stethoscope, the ear probe (what’s the name of that thing?). Plus, we have a new doctor due to the fact that ours
ran away moved. WITHOUT NOTICE. *insert random cuss words*
All of these things had me wound tight.
But I was pleasantly surprised! Besides the weigh station fit (we ended up weighing the two of us together on the stand up scale and subtracting my
butter inhanced surprisingly inflated grotesquely incorrect weight), the stethoscope tantrum, and the ear probe screams, she was down right charming. Naming all the painted animals on the walls and reading the germ-infested books, laughing and saying hi to everyone.
Then…came…the needles. Whoo lordy. Why haven’t they come up with a way to infuse Cheerios with the vaccines? Am I just rediculously simple for thinking this? Is this current method seriously the best we, as a species, can come up with? Let’s take our small, our weak, our trusting, and stab them repeatedly with a three inch long spike. And we’ll do this at an age before they are able to understand that we’re not just torturing them out of pure pleasure. We’re messed up.
Well she got two. One in each arm. The left one was only moderately painful. The right one, judging by her reaction, felt like the nurse used a needle the size of a dryer hose, on fire, and pumped her full of gritty molton lava.
So, not too bad. For me. Poor baby, though. We have to watch for a fever in the next 24 hours and a rash in the next 7 days. Then, guess what? No more needles until she’s 4! Yippie.
And for her troubles? Candy. Lots of candy. It seemed to dry her big, fat tears pretty quickly.
ps – She’s now measured in feet and inches, like a real live big girl. She’s 2′ 7″ and 26 lbs.