The ‘At the Doctor’ Face

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When my brother was very young he had a lot of health complications due to asthma and he had a mantra he would say to himself before any medical treatment.  “I’m gonna cooperate. I’m gonna cooperate.”  Over and over walking into the exam room or building.

I’ve never been quite as brave.  I was the kid who would call and cancel my dentist appointments that my mom had made.  That was me.

I’ve come a long way, really.  I don’t cry during blood draws anymore and haven’t cried for my last few IV’s either.  I never truly cried from pain.  I would just work myself up like crazy before hand due to my extreme needle dislike.  People say that ‘everyone dislikes needles’.  This is false.  My husband is the guy who offers to let people in training practice on him.  That is not a person who dislikes needles.  Some people have tattoos from top to bottom, front to back.  Don’t tell me they dislike needles.

I genuinely dislike needles.  The thought of piercing a vein just makes me queasy to think about at all.  The number of times that I have watched an IV be put into my body is zero, which is also the number of times I’ve watched a blood draw take place.  I foolishly watched at the urgent care a couple days ago while they numbed Tom’s thumb before stitches.  He had two holes in it essentially and I watched the doctor shoot the anesthesia in one and then watched it shoot out the other hole and across the room.  Then I remembered why I don’t watch that stuff.  I made it through the cleaning out and debridement though.  During the flushing and the ‘blood volcano’ was when I passed out when my brother’s shinbone was exposed.  I thought I was being super supportive when I heard the doctor say, “we’re losing her”, which I thought was odd.  Then I was drinking water at the nurse’s station so evidently I was the her in question.

Yes, while I was in the hospital I bartered with my doctor to eliminate a few needles here and there, but overall I have done what is necessary and the smart thing for my health.  If the doctor says it’s not absolutely necessary, but doing a biopsy is the smart choice, then I do that.  If the doctor says we should do blood work just to be sure, I go and do it.  So for the most part I cooperate and make the smart choices, but I definitely whine about it and milk it for whatever I can get out of it.  I’m a grown up and I still will buy myself a treat after blood draw almost every time.

My routines and patterns for doctor’s visits have changed some.  When I was a teenager, I would almost always rearrange the pictures on the wall and enjoy the game of ‘is the doctor going to notice’.  I looked in the drawers usually to check for terrifying things.  This game always backfired because the drawers are filled with only terrifying things.  Tom is a problem causer.  He plays with absolutely everything and blows up gloves.

ER waiting rooms almost always include the games ‘guess what’s wrong with that person’ and ‘guess what’s in mom’s purse’.  My mom always has an eclectic arrangement of items so this is a very difficult game and definitely expert level.

Anyways, I think we all have a ‘grin and bear it’ type of face when it comes to certain things.

This morning I was reminded what our dog Hero’s ‘At the Doctor Face’ looks like and it is both hilarious and sad.  A little sad that he is such a chicken trying to hide behind me and fit under the bench, but also hilarious because he too is trying to milk it for as many treats as he can get off the counter.  Also, I promise he has ears, but he is carefully slicking them back to the side of his head as close as possible to insure that no one misunderstands and assumes he enjoys this experience and outing.  It was evident that he did not in any way think this should count as a car ride.

hero vet

Poor Hero had gotten tangled up in a chain loop that was bent open which ended in shrieking and stabbing and pulling skin out and away from the muscle membrane which feels super weird and is wrong.  He’ll be just fine and just needs to take some oral antibiotics and some ointment.  She suggested that after ointment is applied to just put basketball shorts on him so he doesn’t lick it.  She also prescribed some pain meds for him since she said even though he wasn’t displaying pain, it was probably hurting and he was just tough.  Unfortunately she said this while he was burrowing himself under the tiny bench in the exam room, which failed to accurately display his true toughness.

So the moral of the story is: standby for photos of Hero in basketball shorts!

 

 

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