Friday, March 07, 2008

Three Little Pricks

Tricky had his final two vaccinations the other day.

I'd like to say it all went smoothly and calmly, but then I'd also like to say there's peace all over the world and global warming has been reversed.


Hell with extra screaming. Screaming like I have never heard before. I am talking way beyond Screaming Tomato. Screaming Tomato only applied when he couldn't actually thrash his Ridiculously Heavy Body from side to side or fling himself backwards out of my arms and certainly not when he could stiffen himself into a concrete garden gnome making it impossible to strap him into his straitjacket, I mean stroller.


We weren't even in Dr Jab's room yet. But with those high decibel shrieks and that alarming convulsive thrashing over the carpet we were hustled in very quickly. And not surprisingly the actual injections made no difference to the quality of the screaming. They continued. As did the thrashing and garden gnome impressions.

And of course the reception staff couldn't wait to throw us out onto the street.

So now there's me lugging an enormous baby bag, my handbag, a completely useless stroller and an insanely screaming toddler who's almost frothing at the mouth by this stage. I couldn't even put him down to load all the bags into the stroller.

As I stood there helplessly on the footpath, cursing C for having brought Tricky home late from the beach therefore he went down late for his nap therefore he was wrenched from his sleep early to make the doctor's appointment therefore he had transformed into evil monster baby and I had lost at least ten years off my life expectancy, a vision suddenly appeared before me.

She was thin. She was beautiful. She too had known the horrors of trying to manhandle an unwieldy toddler. Elizabeth Hurley gazed at me with her sympathetic come-hither eyes and brandished her Magnum.

Yes, I thought to myself. What else will shut him up and cool him down at the same time?

I pushed past the Liz cutout and into the seven 11, snatched up a little tub of vanilla icecream and paid with shaking hands.

Do you have a spoon? I asked the man behind the counter. He frowned a little but eventually managed to come up with a paddlepop stick.

Through all this Tricky kept screaming and thrashing and finally it was all I could do to sink to the linoleum in front of the ready made ham sandwiches and start shovelling the ice cream in. And miraculously it worked but only while the icecream was in his mouth. If I dared to stop and say, gather my bags together, or move the stroller out of the way of the English backpackers humming and ha-ing over which ham sandwich they should buy, then the screaming would start again.

At one point I thought to myself that the only other person I knew who had spent as much time on the floor as this was my friend George who went down to his local seven 11 to get some milk and ended up in an armed robbery.

The other prick of the week was yesterday when I went in to have a blood test for... well for all that shit you have to have when you're going to start IVF again.

Yes...we've got the fairy floss, we bought the Cheese On A Stick, we're clutching our tickets in our hot little hands. Back on the Great Big Fertility Ride we go.

It's not the same of course, different doctors for starters. We're going with Dr Lovely Accent who did the successful transfer that led to Tricky. And, at this point anyway, it looks like we won't be using the Chinese Fertility Goddess with her myriad of ghastly teas, because well basically we can't afford her. But I am off the coffee. And the wine. Almost.

We're starting with a frozen cycle, the last of our Famous Five who's been in the deep freeze for over two years. No drugs for this cycle just the usual dates with the dildocam and blood tests akimbo.

And if that fails, well we'll see.

Back on the floor of the seven 11, finally, the tub was empty, Tricky had gone for several minutes without shrieking and the red shine to his face had begun to subside.

Now was the part I feared, the sliding him back into the stroller. The English backpackers had stopped to watch, the man behind the counter had stopped to watch, and Tricky was sucking the last vestiges of icecream from his stick. Quickly I picked him up and threw him into the stroller, strapping him in even as he opened his mouth to roar.

Too late buddy, I said grimly as I loaded the bags on behind, you're in.

And off we strolled home, him shouting and kicking the whole way.

Number two? Bring it on.


Nic said...

Interestingly we had the same experience with the screaming monster at Ant's doctor's apt on Tuesday as well. Not just crying, but high pitched "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE PEOPLE" kind of screaming. Made me cry too and the poor doctor was at a bit of a loss.

I'm really excited that you're trying again, and I hope that you don't have to go beyond the last of the Famous Five.

Trevor said...

What is it about parenthood? Any sane (i.e. childless) person witnessing a screaming toddler in public would take it as a sign of the righteousness of their child-free ways. But only a parent could subject themselves to a publicly-humiliating wrestling match (which they are plainly losing to someone half their size) and in the middle think 'Wow! You know what'd make my life perfect? Another one of these'

So far Breda and I have managed to escape having all three of ours go into melt-down in public at once but it's only a matter of time...

Good luck with the next attempt.

Mima said...

Oh GOOD LUCK, I'm shouting that and crossing my fingers and doing all the other relevant things to wish you all the best with the next ride. Its really brave to go again, it must have been a huge decision to make - especially when Tricky provides such an excellent performance of perfect babyhood for you! Thank goodness for Liz Hurley, I wonder if she realizes that she makes such powerful waves!

grit said...

At least Tricky did not shout, as Shark once did, across a crowded public playground, 'Mummy! Mummy! Don't lock me in the cellar!'

The cellar is the spare bedroom where the door jams. The pointless au pair from last August used to lock herself in there routinely, both by accident and design.

Anonymous said...

OOOoooo, so excited that you're trying again! My best wishes & prayers that it will be a quick & easy thing for you.

It must be a 19-month-old-thing. Will has decided that he can WALK DOWN THE STAIRS by himself. He waves my hand away, and gives me that little "NNGG" grunt that means, "Please don't touch my hand or offer assistance, you foolish woman! I am 19 months old! I can do anything!"

Maggie May said...

Had to laugh at the tantrum. We have all been there!
Wow, you want another little one! Hope no five is the lucky number!

Thalia said...

Oh how we know and love the screaming tomato routine. At least you know you can fix it with bribery, right?

Excited that Anne and George (or is it Anne and Dick? Or Anne and Timmy???

Thalia said...

... ) are coming out of the freezer.

Sorry, it lost a little something by being broken over 2 parts!

MsPrufrock said...

Ah yes, the Screaming Tomato behaviour. We are very well acquainted with this.

Also, I'll try not to get pregnant as you the same day this time.

Anonymous said...

Mine will have her first jabs later this month. :(

Uuf... the treatment portion of the IF ride again. Good luck with the frozens. I'll be praying.

granny p said...

Oh god, don't I remember - the throwing of infant self down mid street and the immediate assumption by passers-by that you are one of those demon ABUSIVE PARENTS..

And now here comes the abusive blogger who has gone and tagged you - SORRY..

Mima said...

I have an award for you over on my blog!

Casdok said...

Oh waiting rooms! Poor you, not much fun. :(

Mima said...

Good luck with the new job - what are you going to be doing? Are you excited, or just dreading the change to a routine that I should imagine you have got pretty sorted!

Caroline said...

I once performed similarly at the same prospect, (though was not strictly as a toddler), in the packed waiting room at the 'Doctor's. Enormous source of consternation for Mum and Dad, as I escaped from the consulting room out onto the street, emitting a blood curdling scream, was that Dad, now in pursuit, was the Doctor.

As possibly the only sane person on this thread I'm with trevor on this.

I actually came via the Canaries looking for some weird facts about someone who I know nothing about and have been most delightfully entertained to find someone who is most thoroughly normal, (which is not to say in the least, average.)

Adios and good luck.

Anonymous said...

Oh, good luck, Ovagirl, with the next round of IVF. Very excited to hear you are trying again, and keeping my fingers crossed that it goes successfully. I'm currently back on the frozen cycle roller-coaster too, so I empathise, and send you and C lots of love.

Anonymous said...

I actually *remember* going for one of those injections as a kid and having my mom hold me down. I tried to make my doll, Lisa, go for me but they didn't want her blood for some reason. You'll be happy to know that it didn't scar me in the last. Obviously, since I am pursuing a donor FET and that is not for those who are scared of needles, doctors and being held down!

Good luck with Number Two. I hope it's a go on the first try, nothing else needed. I'm praying and hoping that for you. xo