I do not like The Girl being ill.
I get it: kids pick up germs and scuffs and scrapes. It’s part of childhood. A series of events that will prepare them for the world ahead.
I get it. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to like it.
It’s like the immunisations she has to have. I support the fact that she has to have them 100%. Whatever she needs to protect her gets my vote. But what I don’t like is the aftermath of the jabs. The little dose of whatever she is supposed to be protected from.
The Girl is 3½ and will start primary school in September 2010 and a week and a half ago she had her pre-school boosters.
It was awful. I’m still scarred by the whole event.
Seriously – the time in the nurse’s office was the longest 10 minutes of my life and the nurse was a complete bitch.
Our normal nurse is a really lovely lady. Mid-50’s, grey hair, sweet voice, short and round with caring eyes. Like a child’s nurse should be.
Not like the ill-tempered, cold-hearted bint who actually greeted me that Wednesday afternoon.
It turns out that The Girl had to have two boosters. One in each arm.
The Girl screamed on site of the needles and started to fight me.
I had to put her in a head lock and clamp both her legs between mine and hold her arm really tight so that she couldn’t move. I felt the worst I’ve ever felt. Ever.
It took me at least 3 minutes to get The Girl into a position where I wasn’t worried about breaking her arms, her legs or her neck only for Nurse Bitch to say ‘I need to do the left arm first’
Are you fucking serious? Sorry for the language but what the fuck?
Me: Look, you can see she’s clearly distressed, can you jab the right arm first seeings as that’s the one I’ve got free?
Nurse Bitch: I’m afraid not Miss McCollam.
She placed too much emphasis on the Miss for my liking.
Don’t thump her I told myself.
Nurse Bitch: Immunisation procedures state that they need to be done in order.
Me: I’m sure they don’t. Look, she’s upset, can you please do the right jab first whilst I’ve got her here?
Nurse Bitch: No, I’m sorry
You bloody will be.
I looked at my daughter’s blood shot eyes and runny nose and resisted all temptation to knock Nurse Bitch to the ground and upset her to see how she liked it.
Me: Mummy’s going to turn you round baby so the nurse can do this arm, OK? Don’t worry, Mummy isn’t going anyway.
The Girl: <insert very loud screaming and wailing here>
Me: Don’t look baby, just put your head on Mummy’s chest and don’t look.
The Girl didn’t follow instructions. Why the hell would she? She’s 3 and being contorted to fit with the nurse.
I had to force her into the same position as before only this time so Nurse Bitch could follow some obscure protocol and do the left arm first.
Her scream sent a shiver down my spine.
THIS IS ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND WHEN WE’RE DONE YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD SHOWN SOME FLEXABILITY TO MY 3 YEAR OLD!
Nurse Bitch: Now if you could turn her round we’ll do the right arm.
I switch The Girl back to the position she started off in and let Nurse Bitch do the second jab.
The Girl screamed again.
Nurse Bitch attempted to get close to The Girl so she could apply some cotton swabs to her arm where the needles went it.
Me: Give them to me and I’ll do it
Nurse Bitch: I….
I stopped her at that point:
Me: Look, I know you have a job to do and you’ve probably been doing jabs for screaming children all day but don’t you ever speak to me like you did today again. I may be a Miss to you but I am the mother of the girl you just injected with no feeling or foresight into how this exercise may affect her. She did not deserve how she was treated in here today and how you handled her reaction to her needles was less than satisfactory by my standards. Now kindly finishing filling out my paperwork so I can leave.
The young receptionist girl who’d been drafted in to fill in medical cards barely made eye contact with me.
I dressed The Girl, picked her up and took her out to the waiting room where she could calm down.