While many of you already know the answer, I’ll spare the rest of you inquiring minds and just cut straight to the chase. Pumpkin’s ears are fine. Actually, let me rephrase that and quote the chief of otolaryngology at Baylor School of Medicine…her ears are “perfect.” Yes, perfect. Because of the tubes, you might ask. Oh no, in spite of the tubes.
Yesterday our visit to Texas Children’s was simultaneously one of my best and worst mother moments. The facilities and staff are amazing. If you ever need medical care for a child – and I hope you do not – this is the place to go. Except for the two minutes that a needle was in her arm and blood was being sucked from her body, Pumpkin didn’t shed a tear. She actually enjoyed the visit. Me, on the other hand…well, I can agree that the fish and the colors were nice, but the rest of the visit sent me into a frenzy of emotions ranging from utter joy, to sadness and guilt, to red-seeing rage.
It all started when the dear, sweet, brilliant doctor looked into my baby’s ears and then looked at me and asked, in the kindest possible way, “what makes you think she is having ear infections?” It wasn’t judgmental or condescending. It was more like the way your best friend or mother might tell you that you’ve put on a few pounds or that your high school boyfriend is cheating on you – just full of heartfelt pity.
What did she mean what made me think she was having ear infections? I thought that part was agreed to, stipulated, understood. I thought we were past the “is she having ear infections” to the “what is causing the ear infections.” Apparently I was wrong, as were several medical professionals that she has seen in town.
After a patient and thorough discussion with the new doctor, I came to understand that, at least in part, my child had been the victim of misdiagnosis. Correction: misdiagnoses. Several. While doctors are typically reluctant to outrightly second guess another doctor to his patient and will never, ever, ever say the “M” word, I could fill in the blanks for myself; and while she didn’t say point blank that the tubes were unnecessary, she did give a “shame on them” for all of the mass amounts of heavy antibiotics my child has taken that were not needed. In sum, her ears are perfect. The best ears the doctor had seen.
So Pumpkin wasn’t (and isn’t) having ear infections – or if she had it was not in the number I had been led to believe. How they missed this I don’t know. I mean, Walgreens sells an over-the-counter ear infection detector that I imagine I could figure out how to use myself. So how in the world does a medical professional misdiagnose the most basic of childhood ailments? I’m at a loss. Is it incompetence? I somehow doubt it. Is it some scheme amongst the doctors and involving drug reps to diagnose something I can’t see or confirm, prescribe medication, and perform unneeded but quick, easy, and expensive surgeries? Considering the number of children I know with tubes, I’m leaning towards the latter.
Now, that is not to say that Pumpkin isn’t having some troubles – I certainly did not imagine the sleepless screaming nights. She has allergies. She needs tests in a few months. She should be on a once-daily until we can run the full gamut of tests. Oh, and throw in an extra “shame, shame” on the doctors who did the allergy testing at 11 months even though I insisted because it was absolutely pointless.
What we do from here I do not know. I have half a mind to take her to the doctor here in town this morning and see if they diagnose an ear infection. Of course, if they do, I may end up in jail. What I can say, and quoting W, is “fool me once, shame on you; fool me…you can’t get fooled again.”
Well educated medical professionals aren’t the only ones making me look the fool lately. Our own little Pumpkin may be starting to make me look like a foolish mama to her teachers (or maybe I’m doing that myself). A few days ago I walked into the classroom to pick her up a few minutes early. I opened the door just in time to hear a stern “Alyson” from the teacher. So I ask, “Aly are you being bad,” fully expecting it to be rhetorical, but instead I’m immediately met with a firm “yes” from the teacher. What was said next is a blur, because I went into mommy-blackout-panic. It had something to do with a toy and picking up and running away and I couldn’t make sense of the English language because I have an angry teacher looking down at my child with one hand on her hip and my child looking at me with both arms extended looking for a savior.
I had a Sophie’s Choice to make. I chose poorly. I picked her up, said a few things that sounded like half-assed scolding and fled to the safety of my car. I could almost hear the teachers judging me as the door slammed behind me.
Since that fateful day discipline has been on my mind. We don’t do much of it, but I’ve convinced myself that is because Pumpkin is so good and she doesn’t need it.
Maybe she is just a wee bit spoiled. She certainly doesn’t like the word “no.”
I’ve tried to ask others close to us whether they think we are spoiling her and nobody will just come out and say no. They do it with that same pitiful “bless her heart” look that the doctor gave me. It’s getting to be a thing, for people to look at me that way, like I have no clue what I’m doing or what I’m in for. I can accept it. They are right. I’d look at myself that way if it were possible. But I’m getting the hang of it, slowly but surely. I figure at this rate, by the time she’s 18, I’ll have this parenting thing down. Is that too big of an age gap between first and second children?
Yesterday our visit to Texas Children’s was simultaneously one of my best and worst mother moments. The facilities and staff are amazing. If you ever need medical care for a child – and I hope you do not – this is the place to go. Except for the two minutes that a needle was in her arm and blood was being sucked from her body, Pumpkin didn’t shed a tear. She actually enjoyed the visit. Me, on the other hand…well, I can agree that the fish and the colors were nice, but the rest of the visit sent me into a frenzy of emotions ranging from utter joy, to sadness and guilt, to red-seeing rage.
It all started when the dear, sweet, brilliant doctor looked into my baby’s ears and then looked at me and asked, in the kindest possible way, “what makes you think she is having ear infections?” It wasn’t judgmental or condescending. It was more like the way your best friend or mother might tell you that you’ve put on a few pounds or that your high school boyfriend is cheating on you – just full of heartfelt pity.
What did she mean what made me think she was having ear infections? I thought that part was agreed to, stipulated, understood. I thought we were past the “is she having ear infections” to the “what is causing the ear infections.” Apparently I was wrong, as were several medical professionals that she has seen in town.
After a patient and thorough discussion with the new doctor, I came to understand that, at least in part, my child had been the victim of misdiagnosis. Correction: misdiagnoses. Several. While doctors are typically reluctant to outrightly second guess another doctor to his patient and will never, ever, ever say the “M” word, I could fill in the blanks for myself; and while she didn’t say point blank that the tubes were unnecessary, she did give a “shame on them” for all of the mass amounts of heavy antibiotics my child has taken that were not needed. In sum, her ears are perfect. The best ears the doctor had seen.
So Pumpkin wasn’t (and isn’t) having ear infections – or if she had it was not in the number I had been led to believe. How they missed this I don’t know. I mean, Walgreens sells an over-the-counter ear infection detector that I imagine I could figure out how to use myself. So how in the world does a medical professional misdiagnose the most basic of childhood ailments? I’m at a loss. Is it incompetence? I somehow doubt it. Is it some scheme amongst the doctors and involving drug reps to diagnose something I can’t see or confirm, prescribe medication, and perform unneeded but quick, easy, and expensive surgeries? Considering the number of children I know with tubes, I’m leaning towards the latter.
Now, that is not to say that Pumpkin isn’t having some troubles – I certainly did not imagine the sleepless screaming nights. She has allergies. She needs tests in a few months. She should be on a once-daily until we can run the full gamut of tests. Oh, and throw in an extra “shame, shame” on the doctors who did the allergy testing at 11 months even though I insisted because it was absolutely pointless.
What we do from here I do not know. I have half a mind to take her to the doctor here in town this morning and see if they diagnose an ear infection. Of course, if they do, I may end up in jail. What I can say, and quoting W, is “fool me once, shame on you; fool me…you can’t get fooled again.”
Well educated medical professionals aren’t the only ones making me look the fool lately. Our own little Pumpkin may be starting to make me look like a foolish mama to her teachers (or maybe I’m doing that myself). A few days ago I walked into the classroom to pick her up a few minutes early. I opened the door just in time to hear a stern “Alyson” from the teacher. So I ask, “Aly are you being bad,” fully expecting it to be rhetorical, but instead I’m immediately met with a firm “yes” from the teacher. What was said next is a blur, because I went into mommy-blackout-panic. It had something to do with a toy and picking up and running away and I couldn’t make sense of the English language because I have an angry teacher looking down at my child with one hand on her hip and my child looking at me with both arms extended looking for a savior.
I had a Sophie’s Choice to make. I chose poorly. I picked her up, said a few things that sounded like half-assed scolding and fled to the safety of my car. I could almost hear the teachers judging me as the door slammed behind me.
Since that fateful day discipline has been on my mind. We don’t do much of it, but I’ve convinced myself that is because Pumpkin is so good and she doesn’t need it.
Maybe she is just a wee bit spoiled. She certainly doesn’t like the word “no.”
I’ve tried to ask others close to us whether they think we are spoiling her and nobody will just come out and say no. They do it with that same pitiful “bless her heart” look that the doctor gave me. It’s getting to be a thing, for people to look at me that way, like I have no clue what I’m doing or what I’m in for. I can accept it. They are right. I’d look at myself that way if it were possible. But I’m getting the hang of it, slowly but surely. I figure at this rate, by the time she’s 18, I’ll have this parenting thing down. Is that too big of an age gap between first and second children?
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