There's another 'Mum' story which I'd like to share soon, but bigger than that, the travel bug is biting again. Planning has commenced for a Grand Tour of Europe in 2013. The only trouble: planning is cheap, saving is hard.
But back to this blog. Chris' school needed a new update - and this is what popped out.
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Chris and doctors
When Chris was around four years old, he had a series of middle ear infections, each of which required treatment from our local GP. Up until that point he’d had quite a happy relationship with Dr G, but it didn’t take too long for Chris to associate the discomfort of an ear examination with any contact with the man – and their relationship was soured for several years.
We knew things had reached rock bottom one day at the surgery. While we waited our turn, Chris was relaxing on the floor flicking through a telephone book (his favourite reading material) and his brother played in the toy corner. Chris had his back to the hallway that led to the treatment rooms and was oblivious to the comings and goings of the various doctors and patients, until Dr G came out and called for his next patient.
Chris was on his feet in a flash and heading for the door, refusing to come back until Dr G and his next patient had left the room. Only then did he return, making sure that the door was closed between them.
This happened three times in all – and had the folk in the waiting room chuckling at his stark reaction. It was almost enough to give the poor doctor a complex.
Fortunately they repaired their relationship a few years later, bonding over a quick game of ‘cars go brrm’, and Chris has been as good as gold with him ever since.
Not surprisingly, we are grateful that his general health is excellent. The only time he sees a doctor these days is when the visiting cardiologists from the Royal Children’s Hospital review him. Chris has had several open heart surgeries, the last when he was nineteen, and will require lifelong reviews – and possibly future surgery.
He had a visit just last month – and he impressed me how much of the routine he recalled – and more importantly, accepted calmly.
Even though he paced around the waiting room and poked his nose into a few rooms he shouldn’t have, he was relatively patient – for him.
First he was measured by the nurse. Getting his feet together and his heels to the wall was a bit of a challenge, but we managed it. Then he was weighed, having to stand very still while the machine settled on a weight. Again a challenge, but Chris handled it well.
The part he usually finds hardest is the ultrasound, but this time he was almost relaxed. He lay still for about twenty minutes while the technician applied jelly to his chest, taking images of his heart from multiple angles.
Next was the ECG – and Chris calmly allowed the technician to apply the sticky dots to his body, lying absolutely still while he took the readings. Then, when we finally went in to see the specialist, he whipped off his shirt without being asked, to let him listen to his chest with the stethoscope.
I am confident that Chris understands that he has had operations and remembers his recent trips to Melbourne for MRIs. He’s even asked when he’ll be going back to hospital and if he needs another operation.
Not for a very long time, we hope.
He has certainly come a long way from running for the door whenever a doctor approaches – even a friendly one.
