I like to think of myself as still being youthful. In my mind I don’t feel like I should be any older than about 25 or so, but my body is beginning to tell me on a more regular basis that I’m starting to age a little bit more than I want to admit. I’m fortunate that I made it through a whole flag football season this past summer still being able to walk.
Well this last week, I was in the kitchen washing some dishes and my daughter walked in with her doctor’s kit, followed by my youngest son with his doctor’s kit. She asked me if she could give me a check-up. I said yes and paused with the dishes and turned to her. She informed me she was going to have to give me a shot in my finger and to not cry about it.
She gave me a shot in my finger on my left hand and my youngest son, copying her every move, gave me a shot in my finger on my right hand. I pretended it hurt, she scolded me and reminded me she told me not to cry. She dug through her kit to find a bandage to put on my finger while my son was searching for a bandage for my other hand. The reason why I always get shots in my fingers is because that’s the only place these tiny children’s toy bandages will fit on me.
After she got the bandage on she asked if I was feeling better. I told her I was and I tried to turn back around to continue with the dishes. She let out a sigh and informed me that I wasn’t really ok and she needed to do more checks. At this point I realized I wasn’t going to be doing dishes anytime soon and just sat down with them on the kitchen floor.
She took out her stethoscope and listened to my heart. She informed me my heart was good. Then she took out her otoscope (that’s for looking in ears) and she wanted to look at my eyes. After poking me in the eye a few times she concluded that my eyes were also good. Then she took the otoscope and told me she needed to look in my ears. Of course, my son was doing his best to copy her and examine me on my other side.
Now before I continue, you have to understand, this is an examination that I’ve been through with her dozens of times. She enjoys playing with her medical kit and I enjoy making up fake injuries for her to fix. The diagnosis and treatment, however, is always the same. I have an ear infection and I need a shot in my finger. She had an ear infection a while back and ever since she always diagnoses ear infection.
So back to our current kitchen floor medical check-up. She finished looking in my ears and I asked her what she found. She looked at me with a look that almost seemed to say “You already know what I’m going to tell you” and she very matter-of-factly said “infection.” Well, no big shocker there. In an attempt to get her to expand her diagnosis I asked her: “Did you see anything else in my ears?”
She just looked at me and said “Hair.”
Yep, I’m definitely not 25 anymore, thanks for the brutal reminder.
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