12-Month Checkup, 90-Minute Wait

The boys are now 1-year-old. New powers come with their birthday: The power to play with toys for ages 12-months & up, the power to eat continuously more solid foods, and the power to chase the dog on foot. Of course with great power comes great responsibility, specifically the responsibility of attending their 12-month pediatric checkup.

I like to think of myself as a smart parent, and until my kids verbally contradict me, I’m going to keep thinking that. As a smart parent, my time is important to me, so I schedule their pediatric appointments for first thing in the morning. In the world of clinical medicine, that means sometime in the 9-10am range since medical clinic employees hate waking up early just as much as their sick patients.

I scheduled their appointment for 10am yesterday. That way I can get in before the doctors have a chance to fall behind because too many Lazy McCoughalots sauntered into the office after lunch without an appointment.

My first clue that the appointment wouldn’t go as expeditiously as I’d planned came when I entered the waiting room and found it packed full, much more crowded than usual. I quickly realized my mistake: Monday mornings are never a good time for an appointment because of the motivated germ-carriers who got sick Friday night and waited all weekend to see the doctor. Monday mornings after holidays are even worse because the germ-carriers are even more motivated after waiting through a five-day weekend to see the doctor.

I took a number, settled between people who didn’t look too diseased, and waited my turn. When a receptionist called my number, I rolled all three kids to her window and discovered another reason for the slow-down: The hospital had just installed a new computer system and had to re-enter everyone’s information. After declaring that Ian and Tory were here for their 12-month checkup, we went through a series of questions suitable for stealing our identity if any nearby sickies were so motivated and could overhear us between their coughing fits. I entertained Abbie on the counter as best I could, while the boys sat in their stroller growing steadily fussier in spite of my reassurances that we were almost done.

The check-in might have gone faster, but the receptionist made several key mistakes, assuming that a) Tory is a girl, b) Tory is the girl I’m entertaining on the countertop and clearly not here for a 12-month checkup, and c) I only have two children with me, which fouled up some of the personal information. I don’t know why so many people assume Tory is a girl’s name, what with Torry “Big Game” Holt still catching passes in the NFL, and Torii Hunter still playing quality baseball until the Metrodome turf ruins his knees. Those guys are clearly more popular than Tori Amos.

When we finally worked our way to the pediatrician, the appointment moved quickly. Tory is 20lbs, 1oz, and Ian is 18lbs, 7oz, or 1lb, 9oz short of being turned forward-facing in his car seat. Maybe after his 15-month checkup. Their growth curves are looking good as their weights and heights are holding steady in the lower percentile, except for Ian’s height, which is jumping percentiles all the way up to the 10th percentile. Take that 9% of his peers. Their milestone progress is acceptable though I’m holding my breath and hoping they don’t suffer the same delayed speech we’re enduring with Abbie. They’re not really walking yet but Ian, intent on continuing his pattern of hitting milestones for the first time in the doctor’s office,* walked three steps for the first time. The dog is in trouble.

The doctor told us to switch the boys to whole milk and Abbie to skim, and moved on to his next patient while we waited for shots. This being the Monday after a holiday, the shots department was behind schedule, and we wound up waiting an hour for the needles to arrive. To make matters worse, the heat was stuck in our room, making it a toasty 80 degrees the entire time. The final kick in the teeth, or jab in the thigh I could say, came when they arrived with five shots for each boy. Their thighs were sore all night.

We made it home a little late, about the time they’d normally be waking from their morning nap. I set the boys down, and wrote the time for their 15-month checkup on the calendar. While doing so, I noticed Abbie has an appointment next Monday morning. I don’t remember what for; I’m not that smart of a parent. I was smart enough to not schedule it after a holiday, though.

* He rolled over for the first time in the doctor’s office.