First trip to the Surgery
We went back to the doctor this week about E1’s allergic reaction and — thank goodness — this second doctor was sympathetic. I had carried a secret hope that he would be — he’s one of best and nicest doctors I’ve ever known. I explained about what the locum doctor said last time, and he said, “Oh!… No, you do need to know what it is she’s allergic to. You must have that pinpointed!” And then said he’d arrange for us to see the paediatricians for her to be allergy tested.
Cue wave of relief. That’s all I wanted. I didn’t want lots of fuss or alarm, or her to be jabbed with needles, or poked and prodded. I just wanted this allergy to be taken seriously enough to be diagnosed properly, so we know what we are dealing with and know what to avoid. I am hopeful that that is what will now happen.
I am guessing, based on last time, that the appointment will come through for sometime early-to-mid November.
Second trip to the Surgery
We were back at the surgery the next day, for E1’s 2-year check with the Health Visitor. The way these work is simply that the HV has a little chat with me to discuss how E1 is progressing, any concerns I might have, etc. While she’s doing that, she observes E1 playing with the toys to see if she performs as she should for her age: stacking blocks, recognising and naming familiar objects, etc. But, right at the beginning, I made a fatal error that nearly ruined the whole thing.
The Health Visitors’ clinic is on the upper level of the doctors’ surgery. I decided to take the lift, because I thought that it might be a bit dangerous trying to help E1 up the stairs whilst carrying E2’s very cumbersome carseat. E1’s never been in a lift before …and she FREAKED. As soon as the door closed behind us, she completely panicked and begged me to pick her up, which of course I couldn’t do as I was also carrying the carseat. When the door opened again, she all but refused to walk through it, and I had to pretty much drag her by her wrist.
Needless to say, she was not much in the mood to demonstrate her lovely vocabulary or nice block-stacking skills when we met the Health Visitor. Still shell-shocked from her ordeal in the lift, she just looked up with wide eyes and pursed lips and hid behind my skirts. I tried to tell the HV all the wonderful things she usually does, but it didn’t seem very convincing.
Slowly… slowly… she came out of herself, and began to play with the toys on the table. She did eventually stack a tower of blocks, and answered the HV’s questions — though every one in a whisper. She named the objects the HV presented to her, even pointing out that the doll’s shoe was a left shoe (very proud Mummy moment, there!). We had another slight meltdown when the time came to stand on the scales and to have her height measured, but that was it. She was, at last, given a clean developmental bill of health.
And we took the stairs back down.