Parenting is hard. Let me repeat that. PARENTING. IS. HARD. Today, I had a moment that involved a complete loss about how to handle a situation that involved my child. A situation that needs to be resolved for the good and the health of said child.
Let me back up. My daughter L is 7. She is not particularly good at going to the doctor. She is sweet as pie until the doctor actually needs to complete an exam, then it becomes a battle of wills and questioning everything. The things she builds up in her mind assert themselves through dramatics and crying and not listening and highly anxious behavior. It is highly frustrating for everyone involved. L is very good at using her body to block attempts at doctors examining
her. She isn't vicious. She doesn't lash out. She just wiggles
and squirms and scrunches and turns away and puts her hands up. She is particularly perplexing to the array of residents that typically rotate through the pediatric clinic that we attend. I have learned my lesson with them...only see a resident as a last resort.
The genesis of today's visit began about two months ago when L had a cold. I am pretty sure she got an ear infection from it but because she wouldn't let the doctor (a resident) examine her ears thoroughly then, we didn't actually know for sure. The cold went away but she complained her hearing was not right. I assumed that she probably still had fluid in her ears from the cold. Most likely a safe assumption, having dealt with my own ear issues all my life. However, as the days turned into weeks, and she still couldn't hear correctly, the concern began to increase. She was missing a lot of what was being said at home and consistently asking us to speak up. It was clear to me as her parent that words that sound alike were causing her a great deal of trouble in particular.
L's pediatrician is amazing, but he books up 4 months in advance. Therefore, knowing that L's annual physical was coming up, I waited a couple of weeks in anticipation of addressing the hearing concern with her primary pediatrician. When he examined her (which she let him do without much of a fuss because she is familiar with him), he said she had some wax in one ear. He and I discussed the hearing issues that we had been experiencing at home and he ordered a hearing screening with the audiologist.
Fast forward almost 2 1/2 weeks until we could get to the audiology appointment. No improvement in L's hearing. Lots of loud speaking and things not heard in our household. L did cooperate with the audiologist and the test came back as I expected based upon what we had been experiencing at home. Significant hearing loss. Most likely due to lots of wax in both ears (fingers and toes crossed). The audiologist referred us back to the pediatrician's office for ear wax removal. At which time I groaned internally. We have been down this road before with the ear wax removal (unsuccessfully), but it has never been such an important issue as it is now because it has not impacted her hearing before. The audiologist told me that once the wax is gone, we will need to re-test the hearing to make sure that truly was the problem.
Fast forward another week and a half until today, the first day I could get an appointment with a non-resident pediatrician. Another week and half filled with loud talking in our house and lots of "what?" from L. L had been warned that the ear wax was going to be removed and that she did not have a choice. She told me last night that she was looking forward to getting it removed because she is tired of not being able to hear correctly. She woke up this morning in a good mood. She was in a great mood in the waiting room at the doctors office. It was the calm before the storm, I knew.
I have never met the doctor we were supposed to see until today. In walks the doctor and she is pregnant. Like really pregnant. And, I think, "Oh, great, just great." No matter how good this doctor is, she is not going to be able to go hands on with my child. And so it began. The anxiety, the tears, the scrunching and squinching and hands up. We tried the soft approach. We tried the tough approach. The doctor tried the educational approach, showing her the tools that would be used and letting her touch them. We cajoled and we threatened to hold her down. Yes, it looked like it would come to that. The doctor went to go get some nurses to help. I tried one last ditch measure, the one I HATED to use because it goes against my parenting beliefs...I offered to buy her a toy if she would just cooperate. The forcefulness of her NO response to the toy idea blew me away. She was not about to be bribed like that. I think she was offended I even played that card.
The nurses came in, and the doctor and I both "abandoned" ship, so to speak. The doctor went to go see another patient while the nurses worked because it was not necessary for her to be in the room. I told the nurses that I felt I was making things worse instead of better by staying in the room. By this time, L didn't want me to talk to her or to touch her. Whenever I tried, she would just get more anxious and fight harder. So, I stood just outside the door, with it opened just a crack, while L screamed bloody murder as they held her down and tried to extract wax from her ears. And, you know what I felt? Empty, exhausted, frustrated. I felt like I should feel bad or sad or mad, but all I felt was done. I heard the nurse ask her when they finished with the first ear, "So, was that really as bad as you thought it was going to be?" L replied, "No", quickly followed by "Yes". It was the only humorous moment in the whole situation. Then they did the second ear. More wailing and fussing. I re-entered the room to a child who shot me dagger looks while she cried and cried.
When it was all said and done, they had only flushed out a little of the wax. While we were waiting for the doctor to return, L finally got control of her emotions and said in a small voice, "So, how did I do?" I didn't directly answer the question. To do so would have been to add more fuel to the fire since my answer would have not been positive even if I had tried to soften it. She didn't do well, and frankly, neither did I. So, it was best to just change the subject.
The doctor came back in and stated that hopefully they managed to loosen the remaining wax with the water even though it didn't come out, and with the use of ear drops the next couple of weeks, we are keeping our fingers crossed that the wax will dissipate. We have another appointment for follow up in a week and a half. I dropped L off at school, where she gave me a wave and a cheery "goodbye." I slunk back to my car feeling washed out.
I wish I could say that I have learned something from this, a brilliant take-away that I can use for next time. But, honestly, I don't think I can. The wax is not gone, L's hearing is still compromised (she didn't hear me talking to her as we were walking out of the doctor's office), and I couldn't get this child that I created to cooperate, no matter what I said or did. That last part is the hardest for me to wrap my head around. All I can hope is that one day I will understand, and the next time will be better.
