Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

The feelings of fear in the room were palpable.  All 4 children and I sat in the clean, sterile exam room of the pediatrician’s office as she did an exam on the baby and determined he needed another round of a different antibiotic. I securely strapped the baby back into his car seat, moved him into the corner out of the danger of the flailing, uncoordinated limbs, and gave him his bottle.

It was now Tristan’s turn. He silently climbed up onto the exam table and diligently followed the doctor’s instructions as she performed his exam. While listening to his chest intently she asked him,”Are you nervous?”

He quietly shook his head no and the doctor turned to me adding, “His heart rate is a little fast.”

She looked through his chart and told us,”I’ve been treating you for an infection since December, so today you are going to get an X-ray.”

She left and the X-ray tech took Tristan off to the have his X-ray done. He never spoke, just followed her as if walking the green mile. While we waited, I silently pondered to myself, after having every child, Milkman, and myself on antibiotics since Dec. 22, why schools allow children in the doors without checking for temperatures, sneezing, vomiting, and coughing before being allowed to attend school that day? I daydreamed about inventing a device similar to metal detectors at the doors of every school, a contagion protector! When it goes off the contagion filled child is denied entry to said school.  In the midst of my ideal world where health takes precedence over attendance and parents don’t send kids to school knowing they are sick, Tristan happily bounds in the door with a smile and says to his twin sister, “You lied!!! There was no blood!!!” He gave her a huge hug and declared,”It’s okay. I love you, but there was no blood!!!” That explained the rapid heart rate. Fear of impending blood loss has a way of doing that.

He then began explaining the procedure to his 10 year old sister loudly enough for all the staff and patients of the practice to take note. “There was a dalmation over my winkie, and then I stood there, and I could see my burp, AND I have a fart coming!”

She looked at him with abundant amusement and corrected him, “You mean 101 dalmations?” She’s had an X-ray before, so I suppose she is familiar with the protective gear that’s used.

“Yeah, that.”

The doctor returns and tell us his sinuses are blocked and he has bronchitis. I curiously asked her if you can see bronchitis on an x-ray. She began explaining it then stopped and offered, “Do you want to see it?” We all leave the exam room and examine the x-ray intensely on the computer. We see his bronchitis, blocked sinuses, burp, and his future fart. In the distance I hear a familiar protest. “Oh no!!! We left the baby in the corner!”