A Trip to the Doctor

I have been suffering from what I assumed was just a bad cold/cough for two weeks. After several people insisting I should go see the doctor, I decided to go to the drop-in medical clinic at Wal-Mart. Of course, I’ve had two weeks to do this and I decided to choose a day when the kids were out of school and I would have to drag them along. (Thus, the reason I selected Wal-Mart.)

Ethan was fine with this…at first. I told him last night we would be going there, and then we’d go shopping. He understood we were going because I was sick. I. Me. Mommy. NOT him.

As I started to get ready for our outing this morning, Ethan became teary eyed. “Mommy, I’m sorry I get so sad when I have to get a shot.” Hmmmm. What was I missing here?

“Honey, are you afraid you’re going to have to get a shot today?”

“Uh-huh.” Like many autistic children, Ethan suffers from some pretty severe fears. Shots are one of them. (Animals another. Babies, another. Rain, check. P E Class, oh yeah.)

“Sweetie, the doctor isn’t even going to look at you. He’s going to look at me. He’ll check my ears. Take my temperature. Listen to my heart. Then I’ll get some medicine and we’ll go home.”

OK, so I thought we were good to go, and we were. Until we got inside Wal-Mart. The crocodile tears started welling up in his eyes. “Honey, it’s going to be ok.”

We got to the clinic and he went over to the chairs in the waiting area. Then he started WAILING. I just looked at the receptionist, raised my eyebrows and slightly shook my head, then had her hand me the paperwork. Ethan was lying on his tummy across two chairs, boo-hooing with all his might. “Ethan, do you need to go to the bathroom?” I asked. (I’ve already written a blog about our potty issues.”

“NO!” he insisted. This went on for a few minutes while younger sister Abby scolded him: “Eeee-phan! The doctor isn’t even going to see YOU!”

Somehow a comment came out about his ears. The light bulb went off. “Ethan, do your ears hurt?”

“Uh-huh.” We had gone to this clinic a few weeks prior when Ethan had an ear infection.

“Do you think your ears might be infected?”

“Uh-huh.”

OK. I decided while we were there, he would get his ears looked at. “But I don’t want a shot!” he screamed!

“You won’t need a shot,” I assured him.

“But my throat doesn’t hurt!” he cried.

“You won’t need a strep test. I promise,” I replied. (That is another big fear, second only to shots.)

“But I don’t want to be in the room when she checks you. I want her to look at my ears and then go outside.”

“OK.”

For 20 minutes, we waited. For 20 minutes, Ethan laid on his tummy across two chairs and cried, often quite loudly.

Then when we went back, we had the doctor check his ears. They were FINE.

“Ethan, do your ears really hurt?

“No.”

Fortunately, she did not charge for his visit.

I told my mom about this tonight, and I was laughing so hard I could barely talk. She finally asked, “Allison, why are you laughing?”

It was simple. Feeling as yucky as I do and having to endure an episode like this one today – which, sadly, is more common than not – I had to laugh or I would simply go insane.

In Ethan’s defense, he does now seem to have some sort of tummy bug. He was miserable and in tears for a couple of hours after we got home until he finally could not fight it any more and went potty. Since then he’s been my happy, active little sweetheart.