Doctor's office torture

Man, ya know what's fun?? Kids with the flu. I don't know what can be more fun than staying home with sick kids. All ... week ... long.

One day, maybe two days, any mom can handle but by day three, four and five, a mom's patience level, well, maybe just mine, starts to dwindle. It's not that I don't feel bad for my babies and I'm thankful it's not a serious illness or remind myself that it could be worse, but by the end of the week, I'm on my knees praying they wake up with no fever and for crying out loud, Go To School!

However, the most fun a mom could ever have, is taking the sick kiddos to the doctor's office. There's seriously nothing more that I look forward to than taking the girls to the doctor when they're sick. First, I have to drag the sick child out of bed, in their feverish sleepy state, throw some clothes and shoes on them and haul them to the truck. If they're urpy, lug a puke bucket with us. And taking one sick kid isn't quite as fun as taking two, or if nothing else, I definitely need to bring the other siblings along. The more kids drug into the doctor's office, the better.

And, keep in mind, if it's reached the point of seeing the doctor, the sickness is worsening and now I HAVE to see the doctor ASAP and that means no previous appointment has been made. As a result, we have to get squeezed in the doctor's already packed full schedule. As a result of being "squeezed" in, so ignites the true "fun."

First is the wait in the waiting room. I have at least 1 to 2 sicko children sprawled out all over the uncomfortable waiting room couches, with their bedhead and two day old pajamas on. They feel miserable and every second we wait feels like 20 minutes. The well child is bored and antsy and I've read all the magazines near me so every time the nurse pops her head out, we pray she says our names, but instead she calls out "Marie?" or "Stanley?"

So after an hour in waiting room, FINALLY, they call our name. You'd think we were In Like Flynn and on our way to diagnosis, prescription and home. Uhhh, nope. We were squeezed in, remember? Therefore, we are on the bottom of the priority list. This means all four of us, half of us miserable and half of us fine but starving, sit in a 5'x6' room with lots of untouchable items and wait. And wait, and wait. I can handle the first 15 minutes of my daughter flopping around on the paper roll covering the examining table, but after that, the sound of that stupid paper rustling around, makes my eyes pop out. As I sit there, trying to stop my healthy kid from horsing around and laughing uncontrollably, while consoling my sick kids as they're on the verge of upchucking at any second, I wonder how much more fun I could possibly have?

I contemplate why I never let Hubby go through this on his own and why it's always me? I ponder if the medical staff even know we're in this tiny room? I can hear several other patients in adjoining rooms. How many hours will we sit here? Should I take a chance of stepping out to use the restroom or will the doctor show up while I'm gone? Then I realize we'll have to go to the pharmacy following this visit. How long will that take? Man, they weren't kidding when they told me years ago that being a mom would be the hardest job you'll ever have!