Appointment Meltdown

The stress of trying to keep Timmy calm in waiting rooms is enough to send my blood pressure skyrocketing. I feel obligated to try to keep him both quiet and happy, a monumental task when the physician is running late. I had tried everything to appease my little Hamlet, including Skyping my Mom and allowing him to watch videos of himself on my iPad. After the novelty of both efforts wore off, he finally broke down.  After sitting in the exam room for 90 minutes, waiting for the surgeon to breeze into the room to confirm that my leg is not there, Timmy was reaching his breaking point.  He started to scream, and I was so frustrated with the tardiness of the physician that I let him. 

I decided that I feel obligated to keep him from screaming for 60 minutes after my appointment time.  If the doctor does not arrive within that window, all bets are off. I won't let Timmy become destructive, but I will no longer do back flips to keep him happy. After all, my bag of tricks only goes so deep.

It turns out that a screaming toddler hastens the doctor. Within three minutes of Timmy's sad sobbing, the surgeon arrived in the exam room. It took him all of 45 seconds to confirm that I'm an amputee. He accepted the requisite forms and promised to fax them to Elliot later in the day. What a colossal waste of time and money!

This is what happens when the doctor is 90 minutes late. #sad #madtoddler

A video posted by Peggy Friedman Chenoweth (@amputeemommy) on Apr 14, 2016 at 11:22am PDT