John hurt his knee on the playground last week. He tripped and landed on top of his kneecap. Initially, he seemed fine.
By Saturday night, he’s telling me it is hurting him.
By Sunday, he can hardly walk and the PA at the pediatricians office says to watch him.
By Monday morning, I’m worried about him. I fashion a little cane for him to use and take him to see an orthopedist.
After all this time parenting, I still occasionally find myself sitting with my child in front of a doctor only to realize that their symptoms have been a little exaggerated.
I love it when that happens.
So, apparently the knee that I thought was a potential torn meniscus, is nothing more than a giant scab. I am not kidding. The doctor looked me dead in the eye and EXPLAINED IT TO ME.
“You see, Mrs. Ebeling. The raspberry (his words, not mine) stretches the skin now that a scab has formed and it is causing discomfort.”
Really? By this point, I’m sitting there thinking I cannot believe I just brought my child to an orthopedist for nothing more than a skinned knee.
This kid is going to be a salesman or an actor or something.
I look at John and I can tell the moment his acute knee pain becomes not-so-cute knee pain. He knows that I know he’s been fooling me. A little smile emerges.
I say nothing.
I get to hear the doctor dictating the patient notes for our visit as I gather up our things to leave.
It sounds very official, “hematoma … blah blah… xray…. blah blah… patella…. blah…. could bear weight…blah blah”.
He should have said, “The mom’s a total sucker. The kid has a skinned knee. Easiest money EVER!”
Pretty darn humiliating.
It just goes to show how nuts you can get when you think you’re kid is hurt.
I think about telling The Boy Who Cried Wolf parable but it’s already been told. John knows better.
We get in the car. (Oh, btw, this time he managed to get to the car sans wheelchair).
It is very quiet.
“Next time you want to skip school, just tell me. We’d have more fun doing a puzzle or going to the movies than sitting at the doctors office”.
That got his wheels spinning.
“Oh, by the way, no more iPad today – and maybe not tomorrow. But, we can chill out together when we get home.”
We get home.
Draw some pictures together.
It was nice.
“I like your picture, John. I wish it was raining marshmallows today, too…
But, just so you know, there’s no way you’re going to convince me the boy on the left got hurt from marshmallow rain.”
“Can I go outside?”