A visit to the doctor

Small Sprogs eczema has erupted. This time it’s on the tips of his fingers. He has had it on his feet for most of the last two years but he doesn’t complain.

Last time I took him to the doctor about it (six months ago) he more or less said ‘live with it’.

‘Live with it?’, I ask you, why spend hours in the waiting room, catching whatever everyone else has come to complain about, and trying to entertain a whinging 7 year old QUIETLY, just to be told to ‘live with it’!

This time I was ready for battle, the eczema had spread to his hands and I was worried. I was determined not to be ‘fobbed off”! (Never mess with a worried mother!!)

It wasn’t until I entered the surgery that I realised the doctor we were seeing was the lovely lady who was my complete angel and saviour when I had post natal depression nearly 10 years ago. How could I ‘do battle’ with her after all her understanding and help all that time ago?

We went in.

“How are you” She said. This always throws me when they say that. Does she say that to everyone? I mean, if we were perfectly well we wouldn’t be there would we!

“Small Sprogs eczema has flared up again” I tell her, assuming that her question was my cue. Meanwhile he is sat on the couch swinging his legs and looking as if he was planning something. “It’s on his hands now”

She asks to look at his hands and he saunters over to show her the flaky bits on the ends of his fingers. She looks unimpressed. “It’s on his feet too” I say, feeling she needed a little more persuasion that we were not wasting her time.

“Can I look at your feet?” She asks Small Sprog
“Yep!” He swaggers back to the bed, enjoying the attention and starts to make a bit of a show of taking off his shoes and socks. I start to think that I should have told him to make a bit of a fuss!

He took off his shoes and she goes over to inspect. His feet looked pretty good. Better than they had this morning, better than they had looked for months!! How does that happen? As soon as you get a doctors appointment, everything gets better. It must be a miracle!

“They get much worse than that” I tell her whilst she says nothing. She sits down again.

She tries to fob me off with some more cream. “But he’s had it for years” I whine “And now it’s on his fingers and you’re only supposed to use the cream for a few days, I’ve been putting it on for months now and it’s only just keeping the eczema at bay”

She gives me a withering look and explains (very nicely) that sometimes she sees children with such badly infected skin on their hands that they have to have them ‘wrapped’. She seems to have missed the point. That is what I’m trying to avoid. Why let it get that bad? I can find no words that are suitable. She is writing a prescription for more cream which I know will have no effect. “Perhaps he’ll grow out of it” She says. I look at her in a disbelieving way. What am I supposed to do, rejoice that when he is my age he will be eczema free but have no skin left on his feet due to overuse of steroid cream?

I mention homeopathy. She brightens, “You could try that”

Small Sprog was bored now. He had found the box of toys under the table and had pulled them all out. Just as I was trying to formulate a coherent sentence I felt him fiddling with my head from behind. I tried to ignore him but he was not going to be ignored. He had a furry glove puppet on my head. There I am, trying my best to be serious and he has a puppet dancing on my head. The doctor looked unamused. She was obviously thinking that I had no control over my child (she was partly right) and that I was a fussy, over protective mother (possibly) and that my son was verging on the delinquent (right!)

The printer spat out the prescriptions and she handed them to me with a smile as I tried hard not to raise my voice to Small Sprog who was now crawling around the room.

We left.

Tonight my mum called to see how we were. “Did she refer you to a skin specialist?”

“No”

“Oh Billy!” (She always calls me that)

“Don’t ‘oh Billy’ me” I shout down the phone “I did my best!” Never mess with a worried mother!