Anemic, Uneven, and Delayed

Dear Tante and Oma,

I am mad, mad, mad, and I may not take it anymore.

Mama took me to the doctor on Friday for my “nine month checkup.” They say it that way so that they won’t say the word “shots” in front of me. I’ve fallen for that one before. I’m more than nine months old now but my doctor is very busy.

Not too busy to be mean though.

We got there and before so much as a how-do-you-do I was naked and they were sticking me in the foot with a sharp little thing. Mama held me and sang to me and told me I did a good job. Since she was being nice I didn’t cry while they were pushing all the blood out of me.

The nurse was nice, too, after the poking. She weighed me and measured me and said I was cute. That was OK. After the nurse was done Mama sat with me in the chairs and let me help her read a magazine. That was fun.

But then the doctor came in. He stood at the other end of the room and after how-do-you-do and how-do-you-do he asked, did Mama have any concerns? Mama said, “Well, she’s not crawling yet.”

She could have just told me that was bothering her—she didn’t have to report me to the doctor police.

After Mama reported me for not crawling the doctor police just about took me downtown for questioning. He asked was I pulling up and pinching things or raking them and feeding myself and sitting and playing and was I on my tummy and could I see and hear and was I making progress and where was I last Tuesday at around 9:00 p.m.?

Mama started to talk to him about how I was doing. When it was all over he said I had some “gross and fine motor delays” but we didn’t have to worry right now.

Well, I didn’t like that one bit and neither did Mama. First, there is nothing delayed about me. Someone has to be at the bottom of the baby pile, and I volunteered to be last for crawling. Another baby will be last for talking. Don’t they understand how the baby world works?

Second, don’t tell Mama there is a problem but not to worry. She is very good at worrying. She likes to worry early and often.

Then the doctor said all that blood they took out of my foot shows I am anemic. Of course I am anemic—they took all my blood. Then he said I had to take a multivitamin and iron supplements and asked about what I ate.

Mama was talking to Dr. Mean Police about it. She was sitting and he was standing and she was talking talking talking and he was typing typing typing and finally Mama stopped talking and just sat there until he stopped typing. It took a while. He should watch out. Mama’s a teacher. She can stand there in silence all day until everybody pays attention.

Then Mama got tired of having the police stand there so she said, would you mind sitting down to talk with me? And then he did.

Then he stood up and he poked and weighed and measured and said I had been found wanting. Actually, he said I had been found not growing both legs at the same time. He said one leg was shorter than the other but I would probably catch up.

The whole rest of the time he stood. So Mama stood.

Before they poked me again Mama asked if maybe they could use some sort of cream to help me with the pain from the poking. She actually used some big words like “topical anesthetic.” She already knew the name of the stuff she wanted. But he said he didn’t use it because it didn’t go that deep and did Mama understand how they gave shots in the muscle? Then he left and the nurse poked me and I cried.

When Mama got home she was mad about the standing and talking and the typing and the muscle shot. Mama says she might only be a lawyer and teacher but she knows her IM from her sub-cutaneous and the doctor was acting like this was her first rodeo.

Miss Mirjam says Mama needs to fix it—either quit complaining or get a new doctor. Daddy says Mama is just mad because the doctor doesn’t tell her how brilliant she is.

I’m just mad because he said I was anemic, uneven, and delayed. Then he poked me. Actually, he had some cute nurse poke me. He didn’t even have the guts to do it himself. Mama says doctors don’t do it because they don’t want kids to be scared of them or mad at them and start screaming as soon as they walk in the room.

He doesn’t have to worry. I’m already mad.

And now I have to take some yucky med-ne-sen.

Sister is mad too. She wanted to come to the doctor with us and Mama said no. Sabrina said she wanted to help me with my shots. Mama thinks Sister wanted to hold my hand and say “shhhhh, little honey.” I think Sabrina wanted to stick the needle in me all by herself.

When we got home Sabrina said when we left Daddy took her outside to play and that helped her to feel better. I’m glad she was feeling better. I wasn’t.

Yesterday Mama had a baby shower for Miss Mirjam. Sabrina and I weren’t allowed. We had to go play with Daddy and Reverend Daniel and baby Marie.

Today at church everyone was talking about what a nice party it was. Mrs. Pendergrass was saying how great Mama is—she’s a lawyer and a Mama and a good cook and a nice hostess.

Daddy says since Mrs. Pendergrass thinks Mama is fabulous maybe Mrs. Pendergrass should be our new pediatrician.

Mama gave Daddy the raspberry for that one.

Love,
Little Linnie Lou-Hoo

P.R.S. I have a new game! When I am sitting up and you are watching I fall backward and then I laugh. You and my stomach muscles help me sit up and right away I fall backward again and laugh. I could do it for hours.

I figure I might as well fall backward myself since Sister likes to push me backward anyway. It makes Mama mad and Sister has to say “sorry.”