95th percentile
so, yesterday i brave the microorganisim/virus/bacterial wasteland of the doctor's office to take my kids for their semi-routine check up. that's right folks....we go to the doctor's every two years whether we're sick or not. i know, i know. i should do it more often, at least according to conventional medical wisdom. it's just that i hate the fucking doctor's office. i have overwhelming images of infectious diseases culturing themselves on every surface and crawling toward my mucous membranes. overcome with the paranoia induced by the institutional odors and insulted by the empty promise of sanitary conditions and supposed sterility of things, i am hypersensitive. my neurosis kicks into high gear when the nurse comes in and, wearing the gloves she touched the doorknob with, proceeds to touch one of my kids, pick up her pen, scratch her ear, jot something down, rub her eye, and leave again...old germy ass gloves still in place. brilliant. thoughts of seeped secretions and spilled body fluids, lanced boils and athlete's foot, pink eye, necrotic wounds and itchy ball syndrome...jesus christ, by the time the doctor gets in there (an hour after the hour the appointment was set for, ahem!) i'd be climbing the walls if i weren't so afraid to touch them. icky bad. during our wait, my kids are doing their best to engage me but i am consumed by the consideration of prophylactic antibiotic use and i feel a sense of deep regret that i didn't up our vitamin C & zinc intake a week in advance; you know, like a little booster for what i think of as an immune system triathalon. yeah, my kids are gonna be weird because of these hang ups of mine, i just know it.so, to make a long and boring story shorter and more interesting, i'll fast forward to the part where i got really pissed. the doctor came in and stepped onto his golden podium (which i promptly hacked down). he began explaining stupid things to me in a manner that my second-grader would find patronizing, and thus ensued The Power Struggle (which i promptly won) between the good (that's me) and evil (that's the patriarchal/pharmaceutical juggernaut faction) forces of the universe. why, oh why, dearest beloveds...why would this asshat want to walk in and inform me, ME (if he only knew) of all people...that my daughter is in the 95th percentile ranking in height among her peer group. he continues to tell me that she's in the 90th percentile for weight. in my mind, though completely irrelevant and about as useful as, say, baseball scores from the turn of the century, this makes sense. if you are in the top percentile in your height, it's not a big mental leap, understanding that it is proportionate (and perhaps even desirable) to be in the upper end of the range when it comes to weight. it's called balance.
this dickhead had the fucking iron clad stupidity and nerve to dangle his balls in my face by saying these words in front of my daughter....
"I'm not saying that she's fat or anything...but you'd better be careful. She could have a tendency toward getting fat. Tell me, does she actually DO anything? I mean, like, you might want to make sure she's getting enough activity in her day to day routine...just, watch out for that. We don't want her putting on too many pounds."
Of all the fucking stupid, dumb things a person could say in front of a child. THIS has to be up there in, say, the 99th percentile range.
p.s. she's 8 years old, 4'2 and 72 pounds. she's at school from 8am to 6pm monday thru friday and I SEE HER running, jumping, hiking, gardening, walking, doing yoga, and playing actively all day long. she eats a balanced diet with very little sugar or crap-carbs. WTF???
posted by babaloniyoni @ 1:00 PM
3 Comments:
Reminds me of when my pediatrician (who was wonderful, usually) made a crack about me eating too many potatoes.... Of course that was in 1979 before every little girl seemed to think she needed to diet. Even then, though, it was uncalled for.
And every doctor/nurse I've seen puts the gloves on in the room right before they examine you. I think it's time for you to find a new office! Where the wait's not so long, too.
I'll bet I even know which doctor it was. Man you need a new one and I have a great one, though she is in South Austin. The bastard!
Mine is 95th percentile, or thereabouts, too. Height and weight. I'm constantly told he looks big for his age (duh, he is) and asked if I'm feeding him steroids. Sure and growth hormones too. It's all in the chicken breast nuggests!!!!aaarrgg.
;-)
jojo
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