Re-post: We *went to the doctors* and survived intact! - Nov 06
From Friday, November 10, 2006
We *went to the doctors* and survived intact! Even more amazingly - so did the doctor! :-O
*Grumbling and muttering about autonomous teenagers who make their own decisions and refuse to be indoctrinated by their cranky old parents...*
Zara had a mole she was worried about so she researched the subject thoroughly online (she is now a mole expert) and decided she wanted to go to the doctors about it.
"The... doctors??" I replied dramatically, nearly choking on a sandwich. "Why on earth do you want to go there? Do they not do good enough drugs on the streets nowadays? Blimey, it's the last place I'd go if I was ill..." and off I went into one of my prejudiced rants against the whole medical profession.
"Just phone and make an appointment for me," she interrupted breezily. Not listening to me at all.
"Humph, make your own blooming appointment. I can't speak to a doctor's receptionist (grrrr) without making death threats and they take those seriously nowadays."
"Ok, I will."
And she did!
Four-thirty this afternoon, there we were, in a doctor's waiting room! But the strange thing was that the receptionist (grrr) had NOT insisted on announcing to the forty-odd other people present who we were and why we were there. There was a propaganda video running in the corner, but when I actually watched it, it seemed to be about nutrition and city farms. Hmm, weird. There were still adverts for pain-killing drugs in it too though. Ha! Caught them. Still peddling the old smarties then.
When we got into the doctors room I snarled a bit and she went satisfyingly pale. This was the same doctor who insisted on doing a post-natal check on Lyddie and who literally ran back to her car when she'd finished. I'm a peaceful person! I don't know what she was worried about. But as I said to Zar, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Especially if you aim well.
Anyway, she looked at the mole and pronounced it safe, but my strong-minded offspring still insisted on a referral to the skin clinic. Mine and the doc's jaws both dropped, but she did as she was told and said she'd write to them for an appointment, and I obediently put up and shut up. I almost felt some sympathy for the doc. But not quite.
No "What school do you go to?" or "How come you've been on my books for nearly ten years and I've never actually seen you?" type questions. Blimey. I was surprised. Oh, she did just say, looking at a blank computer screen: "Oh! You must be a healthy lot!"
"We ARE," I said, thinking: Just you dare suggest otherwise... but Zara gave me a look so I didn't say anything else.
Anyway, it's done. I'm quite proud of myself. Do I get a badge or something? :-)
posted by Gill at 5:34 PM 7 comments
We *went to the doctors* and survived intact! Even more amazingly - so did the doctor! :-O
*Grumbling and muttering about autonomous teenagers who make their own decisions and refuse to be indoctrinated by their cranky old parents...*
Zara had a mole she was worried about so she researched the subject thoroughly online (she is now a mole expert) and decided she wanted to go to the doctors about it.
"The... doctors??" I replied dramatically, nearly choking on a sandwich. "Why on earth do you want to go there? Do they not do good enough drugs on the streets nowadays? Blimey, it's the last place I'd go if I was ill..." and off I went into one of my prejudiced rants against the whole medical profession.
"Just phone and make an appointment for me," she interrupted breezily. Not listening to me at all.
"Humph, make your own blooming appointment. I can't speak to a doctor's receptionist (grrrr) without making death threats and they take those seriously nowadays."
"Ok, I will."
And she did!
Four-thirty this afternoon, there we were, in a doctor's waiting room! But the strange thing was that the receptionist (grrr) had NOT insisted on announcing to the forty-odd other people present who we were and why we were there. There was a propaganda video running in the corner, but when I actually watched it, it seemed to be about nutrition and city farms. Hmm, weird. There were still adverts for pain-killing drugs in it too though. Ha! Caught them. Still peddling the old smarties then.
When we got into the doctors room I snarled a bit and she went satisfyingly pale. This was the same doctor who insisted on doing a post-natal check on Lyddie and who literally ran back to her car when she'd finished. I'm a peaceful person! I don't know what she was worried about. But as I said to Zar, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Especially if you aim well.
Anyway, she looked at the mole and pronounced it safe, but my strong-minded offspring still insisted on a referral to the skin clinic. Mine and the doc's jaws both dropped, but she did as she was told and said she'd write to them for an appointment, and I obediently put up and shut up. I almost felt some sympathy for the doc. But not quite.
No "What school do you go to?" or "How come you've been on my books for nearly ten years and I've never actually seen you?" type questions. Blimey. I was surprised. Oh, she did just say, looking at a blank computer screen: "Oh! You must be a healthy lot!"
"We ARE," I said, thinking: Just you dare suggest otherwise... but Zara gave me a look so I didn't say anything else.
Anyway, it's done. I'm quite proud of myself. Do I get a badge or something? :-)
posted by Gill at 5:34 PM 7 comments
posted by Gill at 10:53 am
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