I now know what hell is like. It’s being stuck in a 10 x 12 foot room with three children. There is a container of tongue depressors and chair that spins, but isn’t considered a toy. Yes, I’m speaking about a doctor’s office. I made the brilliant decision to make two appointments with an ENT doctor in one day. I figured it would save me a trip. My oldest was scheduled to meet with the doctor at 3:15. My 5-year-old’s appointment was at 3:45. If you live in Oz that might work out. Sure, we went into the exam room on schedule. Then we sat there for an hour. I suppose sitting would have been delightful. Unfortunately someone decided to hang a large “Where’s Waldo” picture at the Jolly Green Giant’s eye level. So, the only way for my children to find the nerdy bastard was if I lifted them up. My 5-year-old is, well, FIVE! My 2-year-old, who tagged along for the party, isn’t light either. Not to mention she doesn’t know what the hell to look for. So, that was fun until my arms felt like they were on fire. Then, they got to fight over the only book in the office. I understand they don’t expect an entire family to come for a visit. However, I’m certain with my $35 co-pay you could splurge on some reading material or toys.
My eldest was there for a check up. He already had his adenoids and tonsils out. My younger son also needs this surgery. He can barely breathe out his nose which is evident by his rancid breath. The doctor also decided we need to treat his acid reflux more aggressively. This includes berating me over the food I feed him. This woman was shocked that a 5-year-old would ever consume chicken nuggets or chocolate milk. What kind of 5-year-old freak begs for grilled chicken and white grape juice? I wanted to laugh in her face. Sure, I will try to cut down on the so called “trigger foods,” but I’m not going to pretend he won’t ever eat pizza again.
The visit finally ended two hours later when the doctor attempted to dictate a diagnosis to her computer. She has some magic program that records her voice. “He will have surgery in June, period. We will also treat his acid reflux, period.” I wanted to say, “Hurry up, period. Before I go crazy, period.” Apparently she thinks I’m fucking David Copperfield. I am not. After two hours imprisoned in a small room there was no way my children were going to sit quietly while she completed this task. Every time she started to speak my 2-year-old would talk, whine or giggle. She took pleasure in pissing this doctor off. After wasting a good chunk of my afternoon at this office I kind of enjoyed it too.