Jungletwins

Whew we! Just got back from the 1 year physical and wondering why no one told me about the drama that is ‘the TB test.” I was kind of thrown when the doc said we’d be doing it along with the usual suspects (MMR, Chicken Pox, etc). I’ve certainly had TB tests before. I do a lot of traveling and have had lots of jabs, some of which (yellow fever) hurt like a bastard, but not the TB test. I didn’t know that with babies there is a massive needle involved, implanting a massive pebble under the skin, and that it would take 3 tries to get it into poor Mumu. There was blood and screaming and puncture wounds and heart-searing sobs and I really thought I was going to vomit or pass out at any moment. Head between the knees.

Now its over. I don’t hold the 3 tries against the nurse. On the contrary, she has my utmost respect. She’s handled most of the girls vaccinations, and she is truly a wonderful person: extremely caring and sweet, talks soothingly to the babies, is always friendly and efficient. If it were my job I would soon cease to be any of those things. After about a week (tops) of babies screaming in pain and terror I would become a bitter, broken woman. She has my undying admiration.

There was something else disturbing at the Pediatrician’s office though. A little boy had a seizure right in front of us in the waiting area, and his parents were no where to be seen. I used to teach art to special needs adults, and I’ve seen seizures before, but never in a child. He was talking to my husband when I arrived at the seating area to collect my family and go. He suddenly started convulsing and fell to the floor, hitting his head. It was over before it began, and he jumped back up and said he was fine, other than that his head hurt, but naturally we were very concerned.

I know where his mother was. I saw her waiting, holding another small child on the exam table in another room. She looked young and tired and stressed. I had walked by her on the way into our exam room and the little boy was with her then, and as he would do later, he fell on the floor and hit his head. When he hit the floor that first time she tried to catch him and yelled “No!” and looked up at me as I passed, her eyes full of exhaustion tinged with panic. That time I assumed the child was goofing off or having a tantrum but now I see that’s not that case.

Walking out of the office we couldn’t stop thinking about that child. Why would you leave a child with epilepsy alone? He could get hurt. He did get hurt. At the same time, I reminded myself of that Mother’s face. She was barely holding on. The Father wasn’t there to help her. The little boy probably ran off without her consent and refused to come back. And this was hardly a supermarket aisle; this was a Pediatrician’s office. Still. He needs a better medication. He needs more supervision. Failing either of those, he needs a helmet. He needs…many things. And its none of my business. That’s the hardest thing, isn’t it? Its so difficult to be a Mom and not be able to intercede when a child isn’t having his needs met. Its heartbreaking. For everyone.