Tuesday, June 5, 2012
SLICE OF LIFE- LIVING WITH A MAN CHILD
But also because of this living with the MAN children thing. My boys are 17 and 18. And they basically think they are grown men, capable of making their own decisions. Which I guess in some ways they kind of are. But there are several other issues, the most notable one being money (neither child has a job as of yet), that make them not quite men in my eyes.
But that MAN/child dichotomy keeps rearing it's ugly head.
Take today, for instance. MAN child #1 is heading off to a football camp at the junior college next week. And he has to have a physical. But his insurance will only pay for one physical every 365 days. And his last physical was in late July last year, just before the start of football season. So he is not quite eligible for a new physical. But the football team wants a new one, one that has been done within the last 60 days. And if I do that at his regular doctor, it will cost $300+ dollars out of pocket.
And so after about umpteen phone calls to the doctor's office, and the football trainers, and the insurance company, I finally get a him set up for a physical at an Urgent Care. When we do that physical, his blood pressure, which has always been normal, comes back super high. And the urgent care doctor writes that he needs to see his regular physician for a followup.
So this morning, I spend 20 minutes on hold, waiting to talk to the doctor's office. They are surprised at the high reading and they want to check it. I wake him up at 11:30, so we can leave at 12:30. And of course he is quite pleasant about being awakened such a very early hour.
We set off for the doctor's office.
"I'll just follow you, OK?"
I squelch the impulse to make nasty comments about the price of gas. The doctor's office is only about ten minutes away, "Sure, fine, I'll see you there."
We arrive at the doctor's office. The nurse raises her eyebrows. "So he's 18 now?" MAN child #1 does his customary nod and grunt. "Well then, we have to change his paperwork." It seems MY contact information, phone number, etc. are no longer acceptable. The office will be calling this MAN with his results. OK, fine.
After redoing the paperwork, we head down the hall to the adolescent waiting area. The waiting area is filled with teenage girls, including several who are very pregnant. I resist the urge to send my son a text message about the importance of condoms. After all, he is a MAN. He knows this stuff.
Of course I will not be going in to the doctor's office with my MAN child, so I drag out my Spanish book for a little practice. I sit there for almost an hour, and am totally immersed in my Spanish, when I hear a familiar voice.
"Let's go," says my MAN child.
"What did the doctor say?"
"I'm fine. It's normal. I just have to come back in two weeks to get rechecked and make sure."
I think of the athletic trainers we will see in Phoenix next week. "Did she give you a paper saying that?"
"No," he says emphatically. "She said I'm fine."
I am not sure that the athletic trainers will take his word that he is fine. I envision frantic calls from Phoenix next Monday morning. I want a piece of paper. I wonder if they will print it at the checkout desk.
When we get there, I ask if we can have written results. "Oh. sugar," the woman says to me, "you would need to get those from the doctor. Go back and ask her."
"Let's just go," hisses my MAN child.
"I want a piece of paper to give to the trainer," I respond.
"This is the kind of stuff that embarrases me," says my MAN child. "That's why we say you are annoying. I'm leaving."
"OK, leave then," I respond, wondering if they will actually give me, the mother of this MAN child, a letter without him being present to request it. I head back to the waiting area, and sit another fifteen minutes, while a kind nurse, evidently used to adolescent MAN children, procures said letter for me.
I tuck the letter in my Phoenix file, with all of the other documents my MAN child needs to bring, then call a friend, to see if she wants to see a movie.
I have had enough MAN children for one day.