Tear-Free Checkup with a Traumatic Ending

TJ’s 3 year checkup was yesterday. Because he’s always gotten so upset just walking into the exam room, we’ve been talking to him about going to the doctor’s office for months. We’ve been reading him Elmo Goes to the Doctor, and it really paid off.

We had a tear-free checkup. TJ was more than happy to take off his shoes and step on the scale. He weighs 38 pounds, though it wavered between 38 and 39 before stopping. He was a little confused when it came to standing up against the measuring tape on the wall, as he never quite straightened up properly. The nurse wrote down 37.75 inches, but I think it’s more like 38 inches. His height and weight match.

First blood pressure check ever at the pediatrician: 92/60. Apparently, that’s normal for his age. I guess it makes sense; his body is much smaller, so less pressure is needed to get blood where it needs to go.

I answered all of the nurse’s questions, and she typed everything in on a nifty laptop. That was new since our last visit; they used to use paper and a clipboard.

I stripped TJ down to his big boy boxer briefs, and the doctor came in shortly thereafter. I think that “Dr. Joyce” is really a PA, but we call her the doctor.

Dr. Joyce addressed my concerns over TJ’s pickiness. Once I told her what he’s willing to eat – chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, corn, carrots, mashed potatoes, applesauce, and yogurt – she reassured me that he is eating just fine for his age. She was a little concerned about his belly. I told her about how his grandparents (particularly my mother) love to feed him snacks, and I got doctor’s orders to cut back on the snacks. (Getting my mom to listen is another story.)

He sat calmly while Dr. Joyce examined him. He let her look in his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth without a fuss. (There’s a first time for everything!) He let her listen to his heart and lungs and feel his abdomen to check his organs. He giggled when she checked his reflexes. He walked to the door and back as she requested.

And I respected what she told him when it was time to check his private parts. (I don’t want to attract the wrong sort of traffic or contextual ads by using the proper terminology.) She told him that it was okay for a doctor to touch him there as long as Mommy is in the room. I thought that was a good way to explain that it’s sometimes okay, but doesn’t allow for any creeps to tell kids it’s okay to touch them because they’re a doctor.

So our Elmo talks helped us get through the entire physical exam. He didn’t need to get any shots, so I thought we were home free. Then she mentioned that he needed to get a finger stick, and the nurse would be back in shortly.

They wanted to re-check his lead level; this time last year, TJ had an elevated lead level of 12.3. They also wanted to get a CBC. The idea was that a finger stick is quick and easy, and we’d be out in no time.

They didn’t count on my son.

The first problem was that the young nurse was practicing her finger stick technique under the supervision of the older nurse. I held TJ in my lap, and when he saw her coming, he said, “I want to get out of here, Mommy.” When she stuck his finger, he SCREAMED.

It was heart-wrenching. He was so upset – a combination of anger and fear. He’s not used to seeing blood. He was flailing, and it was hard to keep his hand still to get the blood in the collection vial. She must’ve sat there squeezing his finger for five minutes, and she had barely gotten enough blood for one of the two vials she needed. The older nurse took over when she said she couldn’t get any more out, but she couldn’t get any more blood either.

The younger nurse took the vial to the lab to see if there was enough in there to run the test. The older nurse apologized to TJ and to me, because she had to stick another finger.

If he was upset the first time, he was enraged the second time. My heart was breaking, but I was remarkably calm on the outside. I was able to remain detached while it was happening. TJ was screaming and fighting the older nurse, and the younger nurse came back in to say that the lab couldn’t use the first sample because of a clot. So they still needed to fill two vials. She must’ve squeezed his finger for another five minutes, trying to tell him that “this part doesn’t hurt.” She sounded like she believed it, but I’ve had my finger squeezed when a finger stick didn’t provide enough blood, and it hurts! I tried singing to him to calm him, but he didn’t like it. I tried stroking his hair with my free hand, and kissing the top of his head – it was all I could do.

“Get me out of here, Mommy! I want to get out of here!”
“I’m scared!”
“It hurts! My finger hurts!”
“No thank you!”
“I want to go home!”

Then it was over, and the lab tech brought the vial back while I stood with TJ at the sink so he could run cold water on his fingers. Tears were still streaming down his face. I couldn’t wait to get him out of there, like he wanted.

Then the lab tech came back in. With reinforcements. They couldn’t use the second sample, either.

“We’ve got two options, Mom,” she told me. “We can do a venous, or we can try again another day.”

After what we’d just been through, there’s no way I could get TJ back into the doctor’s office another day. I asked her about the venous option, and she said that a lot of moms are hesitant to do it because it looks scarier, but that it it easier and faster. My first thought was why didn’t we do this in the first place? I’m not most moms. I don’t care if it “looks scary.” I know my son; if the finger stick isn’t working out, give me all the options!

So that’s what we did. I had to restrain him again, more forcefully this time. He is strong. It took three nurses to get his IV in when he was dehydrated when he was only a year old. He was furious, and he was frightened. The only good thing about that was that, once they got the needle in, the blood was flowing fast and furious. They were done in under 30 seconds. Again, why couldn’t we have done this earlier and avoided the trauma?

He wanted to run his fingers under the water again. All of the medical staff left the room so he could calm down. They gave him permission to get more than one sticker at the checkout desk. He ended up only wanting one sticker anyways, because it was actually a sticker set where you could build a banana split.

I was also given the option of filling out a survey to get a free book. In between sobs, TJ was actually calming down, and he asked for his car and his soccer ball. I gave him the two toys we’d brought with us, which contented him while I filled out the survey. It took me about a minute, evaluating our visit, and we got a really nice looking book, Growing Vegetable Soup.

It was already 11:00 by the time we left the 9:40 appointment, so we headed directly to McDonald’s for our weekly playdate. He sat on my lap and didn’t move while we waited for the grandmas to arrive. We read his new book two or three times. He was holding his arm out like an injured bird and flinching if anything touched it.

Grandma Kitty arrived first, followed several minutes after by Grandma Debbie, Great-Grandma Betty, and his friend Abby.

It wasn’t until I was in line waiting to order his Chicken McNugget Happy Meal that it all hit me. My legs turned to jelly, and I stayed upright by sheer force of will. It took quite a toll on me to remain calm and strong for my boy. But I did it.

No news is good news, as far as the blood test results are concerned. I don’t anticipate any problems with the bloodwork. And if there were, I think I would’ve heard by now.

Christina Gleason (976 Posts)

That’s me: Christina Gleason. I’m a writer, editor, and disability advocate. I'm a multiply disabled autistic lady doing my best in this world built for abled people. I’m a geek for grammar, fantasy, and casual gaming. I hate vegetables. I cannot reliably speak, so I’ll happily conduct business over email or messaging instead.