I like to think I'm getting better at doctors visits.
I used to enter into the office like an awkward hurricane, a class 5 mess clumsily hauling a baby in a car seat, several toys and a diaper bag packed with solutions to any baby related problem. It was awful. By the time the doctor showed up I was a flustered, sweaty mess. I've now eliminated the fat and just carry the baby. I gamble they'll get me in and out and I wont have need for the desert island survival kit in the diaper bag.
I'm at the office of one of Abbys specialists. I really dislike this office; they have Fox News on in the waiting room and the staff is rude. Its drive through health care with none of the speed but all of the impersonal dullness. Based on our visits so far, we wait an hour for every five minutes we see the doctor. I hate this place.
The old ladies sitting across from us have stopped talking about how cute Abby is and are now whispering and trying not to look my way. I'm too distracted to notice.
I play with Abigail while we wait, most of my thoughts directed to how much I hate waiting around just to receive bad news. Im distracted enough not to notice the change in Maude and Eustice across the way, to not notice the change in Abigails demeanor. The smell brings me back to the world.
Tank, destroyer of worlds, has launched an attack on the clinic. The diaper bag is in the car on the other side of a large parking lot on a 105 degree day. A moment passes where I seriously think about feigning ignorance, bringing her into the appointment then dealing with the problem after.
As I pick her up for strategic repositioning I realize the magnitude of the problem. I understand why Mildred and Velma don't want to look at Abby. What I assumed was a minor setback is in fact a disaster. We have a full blowout while wearing white pants. She's covered in filth from the middle of her back down to her knees. I unknowingly displayed this horror to the entire waiting room for at least five minutes, a stinking testament to my distracted parenting.
I sprint across the face of the sun, grab her diaper bag and return to the waiting room drenched in sweat dragging a wretched baby and a survivalists diaper bag. The woman behind the counter directs me to the bathroom. I'm not sure if the pity in her eyes is for me and what Im about to deal with or for Abby and whats she's going to have to deal with for the next 18 years.
The bathroom is small and hot; the minute we walk in Abby starts to lose her cool. I fumble about until the entire diaper bag is strewn across the bathroom. I find what I need: her changing mat, a diaper, every wet wipe in the bag and a change of clothes.
Changing Abigail is a battle under the best of circumstances. She kicks, turns and flails her way through the entire process. Trying to change her in this hobbit sauna is a nightmare. Her mat slides all over the changing table making it nearly impossible to corral her. Im pouring sweat and cursing, she's screaming at the top of her lungs. Im surprised nobody in the lobby called the cops. "Yeah, Im pretty sure theres a drifter having a knife fight with a baby in the bathroom. Can you send help?"
Ten minutes, 45 wet wipes and one full clothes change later we emerge from the bathroom. My hair is soaking wet from sweat, I've taken off my dress shirt and Abby is royally pissed. I greet the doctor wearing an undershirt and looking like I just stepped out of the shower.
What comes next is worse. Abigail has a clot behind one of her ear tubes, they need to go in and replace it. She got another ear infection because the damn tube is sealed shut. The kid can't buy a break.
I know it could be worse. I know there are other kids and families that have it much worse. But dammit, at this point, on this day I just want something to go smoothly for her. I want her to be able to go two weeks without her cough coming back, without having tubes shoved in or yanked out of her ears.
Until that day we'll wait for specialists and have meltdowns in lobbies and bathrooms. We will cut a smelly, sweaty path of destruction across the city until this kid is better. Fear us, we are a hot mess.
