I do this why????

Going to the GP here is always an adventure… but I never really realised just how much until today.

It starts with me making the appointment:

“I need to make a time for Master 5 please”

“Ok… His Dr is available on x date at x time, does that suit?”

“Ummm,” madly check my mobile phone calendar to see what is on that day… work out if it’s a daycare day or one I have the boys home, “any chance we can make it a little bit later/earlier?”

After around 10 mins of negotiation, checking dates, times, children and whether or not Pluto’s in Jupiter… we can often find a compromise.

Then I have to remember to put that time/date into the phone organiser AND set an appropriate alarm time to warn me of the impending appointment with enough notice to get ready and arrive looking like a totally together mother and children nicely dressed and well behaved… ok.. I can dream… 😉

Having successfully completed all of the above, all that I have left is to wait… other than make sure that I don’t double book myself and aforementioned child…. and that I also pull off having some form of care/assistance for the other children.

Of course, no matter how often I plan ahead, things don’t always go to schedule. I guess booking up to 3 or 4 appointments per time gets rather confusing… to others anyway.

This week, it came about that I had both younger boys to accompany me on the journey….

“Ok boys, let’s get dressed and ready to go to visit Dr A!”

3 yo’s response: “I don’t WANT to!”

5 yo’s response: “Why???”


So we scramble around in the hour before the appointment time, finding shorts, underwear, shirts, shoes, glasses and anything else that is an essential requirement for the visit… Of course this presents it’s own amusement since most of the clothing is interchangeable between both boys… now that they are comparatively the same size… Fun.. yep.. not really.

Then just as we are about to head out the door and perhaps pull off this amazing feat of arriving at the practice ON TIME and perhaps even more miraculously… EARLY, the phone rings. I debate about answering… look at the number and realise it’s the surgery so answer…..only to discover that the GP is running half an hour behind time and could we wait another 15-20 mins before turning up. Ohhhh Kaaay. Two hyped boys, ready and impatient… Woot! (insert sarcasm at will.).

Finally it’s time to head off again after clearing up toys so there’s a pathway out the door to the car…. distracting them both from whatever they are ready to spring into destroying… especially an almost clean house.   Contrary to popular belief… I do indulge in housework… occasionally.

So we arrive… precisely on time.. bustle out of the car as composed as I possibly can be as both boys hurtle off through the automatic door, past the reception desk and launch themselves into the toy room on the far end with as much noise as they can muster, much to the amusement of the other patients waiting in the airy room… Feel slightly positive and manage a small smile myself as I calmly wander up to the desk, suddenly remembering my mobile phone and hurriedly turn it off/down.

“Hi Carmen, how are we today? Who are we seeing today?” With a revolving staff of around 12 reception staff, I often ponder whether I should feel somewhat self conscious that ALL of them know me by name… oops.

By the time we’ve worked out which child, which doctor… and which surname.. the boys have usually removed every book/block/car/whathaveyou from the storage basket and have started fighting. With an apologetic roll of the eyes, I remove myself from the reception and bound towards the room with as much enthusiasm as I can find….I’m going to need it.

For around 15 or so minutes, they play, talk to other patients outside, ask me random questions and hand me an endless supply of books which require reading… like now. Sometimes a patient in the outer area will catch my eye and give me a sympathetic look as I sit on the floor/miniature chair or such whilst all this occurs. Times like this, I’m glad I didn’t take all my high school deportment training too seriously….

Finally the Dr appears and calls my son’s name… not his first name, no. Since he sees 3 of my children so often, he’s taken to calling them by their surname. He figures he doesn’t have to remember too much otherwise..

Master 3 disappears down the corridor after him into his consulting room whilst Master 5 grapples with the concept of having to leave what he is engrossed in… or being able to take it WITH him before he makes the slow amble down himself.

I follow, realising by this time, that any pretence of me pulling this off gracefully is well and truly a moot point….

Gently close the door behind us as the boys then turn their attention to the small basket of toys in the corner of the room floor whilst I fill the Dr in on what we are in need of.. THIS TIME.

This time he asked if Master 5 was keeping well.. Well I think so… but I guess a general check over isn’t that far out as an idea… along with the latest referral needed for whichever specialist we are up to….and that I may or may not have forgotten to mention in the last appointment….

Master 5 is extricated from the toys and asked to come over to have his ears, chest, throat etc checked and notes are taken in between asking Dr A questions as to why he is doing that… or that.. or what’s THAT for… the usual. I subconsciously give a gratuitous thanks for an easy going, well humoured and understanding man as a care-giver for my children.   Phew!

Once that’s done… we wind up the discussion and finalise whatever else is needed before leaving…

Master 3 suddenly appears in front of him and asks why he didn’t check him out as well… so as we make our way to the door, Dr A is explaining that he’ll do his next time….


“Say goodbye to Dr A boys!” as I open the door…

Chorus of flat “bye”s as I grab one of each lad’s hand in each of mine and head back to the reception desk.

“Can I have a stamp?” pipes up Master 5 as we wait our turn.

“Me toooooooo!” says Master 3 and sticks his tongue out at his brother.  Mentally count to 10 while waiting….

Our turn and I then have to think… let go of child to sign document and pay… hmmm which one… oh, I know.. plop child on reception desk beside me…which is quite an effort when they weigh 15 kg and the desk is up to my chest height….

“What about me?????” says the remaining child… so then it’s a case of doing the same with a 17 kg one as well. As I sort the paperwork, the receptionists will scramble over themselves to provide various stamps for the back of the boys’ hands… which they promptly stick together so the can have doubles… hmmmm.

“Another appointment?” is the inevitable question…

Ummm thanks… I’ll get back to you on that!

Eagerly grab each boy off the bench and escort them back out to the carpark whilst finding key’s and remembering where I parked my car….. 


~ by C J on September 3, 2010.

2 Responses to “I do this why????”

  1. Glad you found the car! xox

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