God Bless, Hope. She has always been a trooper with vaccinations and Minute Clinic strep tests. She has always looked forward to her check-ups with our doctor who was my first-marathon running buddy. He's a good guy and both my kids like him.
He needs to fire the nurse who saw us today. Something was not right. Maybe she'd just come from school supply shopping at Target. If that's the case I will cut her some slack.
First of all, she didn't have everything ready: She gave Hope a vision screening, left the room for five minutes; pricked her finger, left the room for five minutes; did a hearing screening, left the room for five minutes; collected a urine sample and was gone for 10. Saving the best for last, it was time for the three vaccines. We waited and waited and waited for the nurse to come back until finally Hope had worked herself into such a frenzy that she had barricaded her little self behind the exam table with two chairs and sat all scrunched up on the floor, sobbing.
The nurse came back and, with a very non-pediatric-nurse-like and noticeably strained voice, announced to Hope that it was time for her shots and she needed to be a very brave girl and sit in mommy's lap. Lots of screaming, crying, thrashing and arm-holding ensued. The nurse gave her the first shot in her arm. Hope thrashed her head from side-to-side and the needle bent. Almost broke off in her arm. The nurse inhaled sharply, further scaring the bejeezus out of Hope. I started to cry and said that she needed to get help. I couldn't hold her still myself.
"Oh. Do you think so?"
Two shots later after more tears and thrashing, I am 98% sure we will need a team of horses to get Hope back in that clinic.
(The more I think about it, she must have been a sub that the clinic called in that morning. I don't think she regularly works in a peds clinic. At least I hope she doesn't.)