So, K has been fighting a cold (or allergies or heaven knows what). After his teacher mentioned that she was concerned that his cough could be pneumonia, I immediately took him (back) to urgent care. His doctor and I have been working together to use medicine as a last resort. We want his immune system to start fighting off stuff—building itself up, but with him having bronchitis a little over a month ago, I am hyper-vigilant.
Well, we went to Urgent care and waited…and waited…and waited…and waited. Two hours later, we were called in. Now if you have a toddler (or any child from 18 months to 7 years really), 2 hours in a waiting room with only a matchbox car, a thing of goldfish, 1 book and 2 crayons is like a living HELL!!! He did great and thank goodness we got a seat by the window so he could look out and comment on EVERY car that passed by!
But two hours later we finally saw the Doctor and after looking, awwwwwing, throat culturing, xraying, and whatnot—it’s just a cold (or allergies or he really didn’t really commit to anything)! Yet while the lil one sleeps, he is also screaming in his sleep, “NO! I don’t wanna see a doctor. I don’t want a band-aid on my tongue. I don’t want a stick on my teeth!” Clearly, his experience in urgent care wasn’t the pain of waiting two hours; it was the seven minutes with the Doctor!
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