And by best, what I mean is worst. My worst, least-favorite part of the whole complicated process. Is it the paperwork? No, though that is pretty stinky. Is it writing big, huge checks? No, though that's not terribly fun, either. Jet lag? Missing my children? Grief? No, no, and no. None of this is enjoyable or fun or something to be anticipated.
You want to know what it is?
Yes, it is the testing of bodily substances one does not really like to deal with. It's bad enough for yourself or for a child who trusts you and shares a common language. A child who is not entirely sure about your reliability or sanity and who doesn't share your language? Torture. For everyone. Because really, how does one go about using gestures and limited vocabulary to explain what is needed? From past experience, the expressions on the child's face pretty much say, "You want me to do what where? And why? That clinches it, you are insane... how do I get out of here?" I'm just really excited about going through this whole process again, times two. And if you can't hear the sarcasm just pouring out of that sentence, I can't really help you.
As you probably have already guessed, today I took R. and Y. for their physicals with our pediatrician. And I really, really tried to get out of this particular test. Oh, how I tried. I like our pediatrician (which really stands for, I think she is good and what she does and she takes me seriously), but on this particular test she wouldn't budge. Drat.
The girls did well. The first doctor visits are always stressful because the new child is always expecting something horrible to happen. This is especially true if the child has had previous medical procedures or surgeries performed, and these two have. It takes a while for them to realize that regular doctor visits are usually pretty benign and that I can be trusted not to throw yucky experiences in their paths unexpectedly. While having an interpreter present can help, in some ways it adds to the unnaturalness of it all, which adds to the anxiety. The girls actually exhibited fewer anxiety-related behaviors than I was expecting to see, so that was good. Exhausting, but good.
The other good thing was that H. has officially graduated from needing a helper when we go places to being the helper herself. This is fantastically huge in my book. I knew that life would just be better if I had an extra pair of hands as we maneuvered these girls to the appointment, and I thought since H. is really good with R., I would try taking her along. H. did great and was really helpful! She held R.'s hand to and from the office, so I could help Y. with her walker. She entertained the waiting girl while the doctor was talking to the other. She carried things. She buckled seat belts. She made conversation with me. (Real conversation, even.) It was a pleasure to have her along. What a change from four years ago!! I am so proud of her.
Our week of doctors is almost done. Tomorrow, A.'s surgery is scheduled for 12:30 and should take an hour. The surgeon isn't anticipating any difficult repairing her torn ligament, but I will be glad when she is out of surgery and it's all done. I'll keep you updated.