I may not have mentioned it here (firmly implants tongue in cheek) but we’re moving.
Im actually surprised, too, how swiftly we’ve gotten packed-up & organized.
We’ve done a
shitton of this:
As a result we’re kinda ready…about fourteen days ahead of schedule.
With this gift of time Ive been able to move down my To Do list from procure me some boxes to hit up every single doc for a check-up so we depart the ATX good to go.
My first stop was the Tornado’s pediatric practice for her 7 year well-check appointment.
The only opening was with a doctor I didnt know yet since all I really needed was a stamp o’ health on her forehead (in case it was required for her new school) I happily snagged the slot & off we went.
And finally the doctor came in.
He pronounced the Tornado fit as the proverbial fiddle and then paused to read the paperwork the nurse had left.
HMMMMMM, he murmured thoughtfully.
(of course my heart skipped a beat of panic.)
What? I asked in my most calm, mama-bear voice.
She’s 25% height and 70% weight, he stated in a somber tone.
He then stepped back and looked at her as if he’d not just examined her.
Is this normal for her? He asked.
(here’s where I reveal I dont amble through life having ANY clue what my child’s percentages are. here’s where I reveal I lied to a member of the medical profession as I saw/sensed where he was headed and, given the fact she was sitting there, I was having none of it.)
Totally, I responded giving him a firm nod.
Still looking at the nurse’s paper he then asked:
So you know about three healthy meals a day and maybe two snacks?
I resisted challenging him to some sort of a physical dual & healthy eating quiz and I nodded again seeing where he was headed and deciding to head him off at the pass.
What do you like to do? He asked the Tornado.
Sensing the oddness of the situation she turned and looked at me (<——– here’s where I resisted looking him dead in the eye and saying SERIOUSLY DUDE? SHE’S SEVEN. SHES NOT DEAF! that came later…).
Tell him what you like to do, I said. Whatever you like to do for fun!
Soccer, gymnastics, jump on my trampoline, play with my friends, ride my scooter… She responded.
OK. He said and turned back to me. So she does MOVE. (<———–here’s where I resisted looking him dead in the eye and saying ARE WE LOOKING AT THE SAME CHILD? that, too, came later…)
To that remark I responded not at all, held my hand out for the necessary papers, gave him my best DUDE THIS IS TOTALLY FAKE smile, grabbed the Tornado’s hand, and exited the examination room.
As we walked to the front to pay she turned to me and said:
Well (dramatic seven year old pause) that was awkward.
I’ll happily share details of how I proceeded from here in the comments below.
Suffice it to say it involved lots of subtle (and overt) discussion of this:
As we spent our afternoon frolicking, chatting, and laughing my mind simultaneously mulled a statistic I’d seen in the International Journal of Obesity:
19 percent of Americans say they’d avoid future medical care if a medical professional referred to them as fat or obese.
- Do you think doctors still rely too much on ‘norms’ and BMI to evaluate patients?
- Have you had that awkward OH CRAP I SEE WHERE THIS IS HEADED moment with a pediatrician as well?
- Have you been referred to as overweight or obese and not returned to a doctor since?
Please to hit me up in the comments below.
Ill meet you there…