I mentioned the other day that we had a traumatic doctor’s visit? OK. Here we go.
Atti is a bit of a mouth breather. More like, a total mouth breather. It’s a really really common preemie thing for their adenoids to develop faster than the rest of their nasal passages, which can lead to some blockage. They typically grow out of it, but if the blockage is extreme, than they’ll operate.
He’s not in any discomfort, but I think it is impacting his development. He struggles to eat, coordinating all the chew, swallow, breath, through one option is difficult, and I think it’s affecting his speech too. He talks like crazy (must post video of that soon), but it’s really difficult for him to say things that require him to close his lips – like an m or p sound. He still doesn’t say Mama. He calls me something that sounds more like BalBal. But I’ll take it.
All of this was really low on the priority level. It was far more important that we work on making sure he could see, getting his weight up, starting therapy, but now that all that is running more or less smoothly, I felt brave enough to tackle something new. Plus, between my snoring Bear and three snoring cats, a snoring Baby was just one too many things to sleep through.
It took us a while to jump through all the hoops necessary to see the right specialist, and then we had to wait for the appointment to open up, and sure enough, when it was finally time to go to the doctor, Atti had a big fat snotty nose. I called to make sure that it would be OK to bring him, and the person I was talking to only seemed concerned with what Atti would tolerate. So I brought him in, knowing my little guy to be just the sweetest and most cooperative little thing ever.
And he totally was. Until they brought out the camera on a tube that goes down his nose. After a solid week of his mom wiping it raw whenever he got within reach, my poor sweet little lamb turned into a raving beast and it took three of us to hold him down long enough for the doctor to shove the tube down his nose only to be stopped by the torrent of snot trying to make its way out.
The doctor finally gave up and sent us down for an X-ray, and the nurse asked, above Atti’s screaming, if she could give him a sucker. Up until that moment, Atti had never tasted sugar. I described before how I wasn’t really anti-sugar but anti-fighting with my child, and right then it sounded like the perfect possible moment to lift the no sugar ban. Since eating is difficult for Atti, I wasn’t sure what he would do with a sucker on a stick, but he popped that thing in his mouth and went at it like he was built for it.
I carried him to the building next door and waited for our turn at the x-ray, and looked down to discover that I had a bright blue blotch on my white T-shirt, right in the middle of my breast, looking just like a Blue Raspberry nipple.
Finally, we got called into x-ray, and by this time, Atticus was PISSED. He was already sick, he had tubes shoved up his nose, his mom threw away his sucker, and now he had to lay naked on a cold table while a guy who smelled like cigarettes shoved him into the proper positions. When all the x-rays were finally taken, I pick him up and sing him his songs, and finally Atticus decides that I’m going to stop letting people abuse him so he calms down and nuzzles into me. The x-ray tech comes out to tell us we’re free to leave and puts his hand out for Atti to give him a High 5.
Atti gave him a High 5 all right. And then he grabbed the radiologists hand and bit him.
He may look sweet an innocent, but don’t be fooled!
I’m standing there with my child on my hip, covered in his snot and blue raspberry drool where a nipple would be, while the radiologist lectures my under 2 year old about biting. I wanted to fold my arms together and blink really hard like I Dream of Jeannie so the whole thing would go away.
Instead I mumbled apologies, sprinted away as fast as I could and just thought, if nothing else, this will make great blog fodder.