It is Thursday,
the 15th. She has an appointment with my doctor for some blood work and a checkup.
The psychiatrist wants this done to make sure there is nothing else going on.
It is the first time she has been to my doctor. This is because I cannot get
her to the pediatrician very easily. A waiting room full of sick kids... So I
book the first appointment of the day.
As soon as we walk in she is following me
like a puppy. I cannot even check her in or get my insurance card out easily
because she is so close to me. I ask her to sit down a number of times and
reluctantly she does. She has her sweater over her face so she won’t breathe in
any germs in the air. I remind her that this is a good homework task and she
needs to remove her sweater and breathe properly. She has been known to hold
her breath when walking past people she thinks are sick.
I see the doctor first so I can give her
a quick history. The doctor now meets with both of us. She weighs her, checks
her height, and does a quick physical. She also pays close attention to her
hands that are red and cracked. She then takes us to the lab room. There is a
nurse waiting for us and my daughter is starting to get really nervous. The
doctor pulls up a chair in front of us because she knows she will need to help.
She is amazing. She is also an ER doctor and is used to kids who are
fearful.
She sits on my lap and starts to beg
everyone to wait. She just needs to breathe she says. We all give her a minute.
When she begs for longer we have to say no. I have my arms wrapped around her
tightly and the doctor is holding out her arm for the nurse. She screams and
struggles but luckily she is so meek that we are able to restrain her. She
is seriously distraught and the doctor wants to do an ECG. They repeat it 2 or
3 times because the readings are crazy. The nurse stays with her while the
doctor takes me into another room. She tells me that this needs to be solved ASAP.
She gives me a copy of the ECG to take home. It says: abnormal ECG - enlarged
left ventricle. I ask the doctor and she says it is from the stress. We agree
it should eventually be checked out further, though.
We get in the car
and she needs to wash her hands and shower immediately. I tell her she has to
eat breakfast and take her medicine and then she can shower. Waiting to wash
hands and showering is a task we were working on for a couple of days. She is
really mad now. Says she is afraid because she is thinking about the images of
the kids that killed themselves from school again.
We get home and she sits at the dining
room table. She tells me she is not eating until she can shower and that I will
have to watch her starve to death. I tell her what I am supposed to "I
know it must be hard." Then I ignore as instructed by Dr. G. She is
yelling that she hates me and I am a horrible mother. I try to keep busy by
putting away dishes and cleaning the kitchen. I also purposely do not wash my
hands first. She notices and starts yelling at me to wash my hands. She says
she is never eating off of those dishes again. I am trying to ignore, but it is
so hard.
My back is to her and tears are streaming
down my cheeks as she tells me how she hates me and how she will starve herself
to death. I can't take it anymore and I lose my cool. I am shaking and crying
and yelling at her that I cannot do this anymore. I threaten her by telling her
how she will not be able to live in our home if she cannot follow the rules. I
basically turn into some kind of crazy woman for a moment, and I shock the hell
out of her - and myself. She then goes to the fridge and takes out the pasta
that refused to eat last night, because there was sausage in it, and she warms
it up herself and eats it. She then asks me for her medicine. I give it to her
and then go to my room to put away days of piled up laundry. She very nicely
asks if she can help. We exchange a much needed apology, from each of us. We do
a homework paper about the task of going to the doctor and then she showers. I
lay in my bed crying because I seriously think I cannot do this. I am not
strong enough.
Dr. G calls that afternoon to check on
us. She is away at a conference until the next day. I tell her what happened,
including my temper tantrum, and we agree that she will call us tomorrow and
check in again. We make it through the night without any more battles. She
refuses to do any more homework and I do not push.
