Our day started out a little rocky. After waiting for 45 minutes at the pediatricians office, Nurse Ratchet called us back. She had a tray with one shot. I had prepared LMC for four shots and a blood draw. One shot looked a little surprising to me.
"Sit her on the table. She needs a TB test."
"No she doesn't, she needs four shots and a lipid draw. We had a TB test last year."
"No. She needs a TB test. She don't have one in her chart."
(ignoring the grammar, I kindly continue) "Um, I think there might have been a break down in communication he--"
"No. She is three and we don't give vaccinations at three."
"All three year olds?"
"No. Not all three year olds," she says with much more sarcasm than I thought necessary-- coming from someone who is a pretty big fan of sarcasm, she continues"We don't give any vaccines at the three year old well visit."
"We aren't here for a three year old well visit. She's behind on her shots and we are here to bring her up to speed so she can go to school."
"Then she needs a TB test"
Nurse Ratchet was all about this TB test. She was acting like she was the type that liked to make small children cry. Changing tactics, I ask about the lipid panel.
"She don't have nothin' in her chart. I can't do anything about that. Who did you speak to?"
Her cardiologist and her doctor.
"Well, if there is nothing in her chart, than I can't do nothing about it."
Round and round and round we go. I wanted to f*@^&$^ ring her neck.
"Go sit in the waiting room. I'll check her chart again."
"Is there a doctor I can speak with? It's just an order that they have to sign off on."
"No. No doctors are available," and she walks out of the room.
We, somehow, don't make it back to the waiting room. Rather, we watch her check LMC's chart and bad-mouth us to another nurse. She turns around and says, "She don't need no shots. She's up to date."
"Our doctor told us she wasn't."
"Well, he be wrong."
Seriously?! My mind is spinning.
"What about the lipid panel?"
"I told you, I can't do nothing about that. Your doctor has to write an ord--"
I didn't lose it; I thought about it- but I didn't. However, I did cut her off and said... probably a little too loudly...
"Listen. My brother had a massive stroke last week (an exaggeration) and was diagnosed with a genetic disease, hyper familial cholesterolema (rolls right off the tongue, no?). His cardiologist told us we all needed to get tested. My daughter's cardiologist referred me back to her pediatrician, here, to get a lipid panel. She submitted the paperwork to this office. Her doctor is not here today, but assured me this would be and easy visit. IS THERE A DOCTOR THAT CAN HELP ME?"
As the nurse stood up and was preparing to lay into me, a nice-- very nice-- doctor had watched the whole conversation break down and said, "I'm a doctor. I can help you. I'm really sorry that she has been so rude. Don't worry, I'll be alerting management."
Five minutes later, literally five minutes, we are walking out of the doctor's office with the order in hand and the paperwork filled out. Nurse Ratchet tried to get back involved with us, but the kind doctor told her to leave. It took more time trying to get the nurse to do her job than it did to get the job done.
Whatever. That's not the point of this. The point is-- I was determined to have a lovely day with my lovely little lady as she was about to have her first blood draw. We walk into the lab and LMC proceeds to dazzle the ladies with her curtsy, her knowledge of the bones, her ABCs (A-B-C-D-H-I-J...A-B-C....X-Y-Z. She might know her phalanges, but we're lacking a little in the ABC department. Really, what's more important?)
The blood draw girl stuck the needle in LMC and my daughter said, I kid you not, "Hee Hee, Mommy. That tickles."
After arguing with the nurse, getting stuck with a needle, we walk out with only one of us covered in eight large stickers. Two doors down, we enter Bobby's Burger Palace for a celebratory milkshake and french fries. On the way to the nail salon by our house, I call the hair salon and make a $20 appointment for LMC.
I get a pedicure.
LMC gets a pedicure.
I get a manicure.
LMC gets a manicure.
I get my eyebrows waxed.
LMC gets her eyebrows "waxed."
It was really pretty adorable and I was really quite lucky that she continued to dazzle the "nice ladies" with her politeness as she asked for flowers on her toes (?!?) and the woman obliged. Next, LMC politely asked for sparkles on her fingers... and the woman obliged. They brought her suckers, spun her in the chair, and gaggled over her as if she were one of their own. I was blown away. We walked out with 20 pink toes, 10 flowers on 10 toes, 20 pink fingers-- 10 of which were "berry barkely and so beautiful."
Two doors down, we walk into the salon and LMC says, "I'm here to cut my hair, please." Up in the chair, a cape in place, the stylist removes the two pig tails and ask what I want.
"She has a mullet. Do you know what a mullet is?" (she nods) "Her hair is just crazy. Can you shape it up, please?"
"My hair is wild and cah-razy, Nice Lady! You make it so beautiful like my toesie toes?"
Several snips and the mullet has disappeared. She whips out the dryer and round brush to style the little lady's little hair.
And, after spending well over two hours in our two hour parking spot, we return to our car.... where there was nary a parking ticket in sight!
The day had redeemed itself! It was a lady's day of pampering. I'm a lucky, lucky girl.