Hold Him!

Why is this man smiling?

I took ZBoy to the doctor today. You know, checking out the ol' bod before checking out the noggin.

They took his measurements, height and weight, and he's actually in the right place for those things now. He was always a bit on the heavy side for the medical world.

Checked out his ears and his throat - things are okay there.

So they ordered some blood tests and some urine tests. I asked Z (since they were non-fasting) if he wanted breakfast before or after the blood thing. He said after. I was skeptical that he'd eat at either time, since he'd already turned his nose up at an egg and some oranges at home. He wouldn't drink any juice or milk or water either. Off we went to the lab.

The nurses weren't doing anything, and while Z went to check out the books for sale, I chatted with them briefly, telling them that "apprehension" was a very mild word for what he was feeling. These are the gentlest blood drawing ladies in the world. My mother never knows when the needle goes in. I like to watch (yes, I know, but I'm a world class flincher and it's easier on everyone if I KNOW when it goes in) - so I knew ZBoy was in good hands.

They talked to him and explained everything that would happen and that the best thing he could do was relax and be still. He was worried about how clean the needles were, why were they putting that dirty stuff (betadine) on him, why was that tube so big, is this gonna hurt???? I sat him on my lap and held his other hand. Calm.. Calm..

They put the rubber thing around his arm and his veins just popped out. Easy peasy, right? Except he saw the needle. And once he saw the needle, he couldn't keep his eyes off of it. "Hold him still, Mama!" Oh, God. Those words are the kiss of death. Much struggling, many tears. And nothing had even happened with the needle yet....

Finally, they just did it. Z watched it go in and screamed the whole time. Thank God there was no one else in the waiting room... Three tubes of blood. My ears were ringing by the time it was done and the cottonball had been taped to his arm.

And someone hit the off switch. He just stopped screaming, examined the cottonball and tape and proclaimed - "That wasn't so bad!" Gah!!!!

Maybe not for you, boyo, but as the person who's had to hold you down for numerous medical procedures, I can assure you that for me, it was a nightmare. I cry every time. Because I am the person my son should trust the most - and here I am holding him down while someone hurts him (at least that's how I think he sees it). But do I really want a stranger to hold him? Or is it more comforting because it IS me? I don't know. It is gut-wrenching to hear your baby child crying and crying like that and have to just stand/sit there and hold them still.

We went and got a blueberry muffin for breakfast afterwards. He spent lots of time worrying the cottonball and tape, asking if it would hurt when he took it off. 'Fraid so, son. Just do it quick and thank heavens you don't have hairy arms. He was very proud of himself when he took it off. And showed the needle hole to his daddy.

They're off playing now. Went to play racquetball (or some variation of it). I decided not to push school today. This day has been traumatic enough without asking him to go sit still in a room for the rest of the afternoon. Go blow off some steam, son. I'll stay home and cry.