kiwords

Ok, SO! I took Max to the cardiologist today, trooped in with three boys, me and my mom. I brought her because she is a nurse, and useful when deciphering/remembering medical terminology. At least, she usually is. When I was pregnant with Max and showed her the ultrasound video of him, CLEARLY making kissy-faces and moving his hands around enchantingly in the cavernous space of my belly, she responded, “He looks like a badger.”

So. Not always spot-on, as far as medical technology. But STILL. She knows more than I.

What I knew was that I was hauling a great herd of humanity into a tiny little exam room, with the advice for patients from the latest issue of Prevention Magazine ringing in my ears. Under the heading, “Patient PLEASE!” was the advice, “Get a babysitter! ‘It’s frustrating trying to focus on a child getting a checkup when the mother is distracted by two other kids,’ says Michael Fleming, MD, board chair of the American Academy of Family Physicians.”

*cough, cough *

Yeah. Or how about I bring the two extra kids along, PLUS my mother? Yeah. Glad that works for you.

Everyone was very very nice, except the ultrasound tech, who was sort of smarmy, and earned instant dislike from Max. He demonstrated his irritation with the guy by studiously avoiding eye contact and leaning away from him as much as he could. Since he was supposed to lie still on his side while the guy took ultrasound pictures of his heart, this proved somewhat annoying to tech guy. Heh. Take that. Max suffers no smarminess.

Mom and I watched the ultrasound screen in the darkness of the room. I held a squirming Raphael and whispered to Mom,

“Do you understand what you’re seeing?” She peered at the screen and whispered back, “There seems to be a cold front moving in. And a badger.” A low, almost musical whoosh sound filled the room, the noise of his heart beating. “Ah, and whales,” Mom added.

What would I have done without her?

We trooped back to the room to wait for the doctor’s verdict. He forgot us for a while (!), but eventually made his way in to boom,

“HE’S FINE! Normal!” Apparently Max’s heart has an innocent murmur, louder than most, but entirely normal. “This is not something minor that you need to keep an eye on,” the doctor stressed, “this is NORMAL. Not a problem whatsoever. His heart is normal, but loud.”

“Huh,” I grinned at him, “normal but loud? Well, I could have told you THAT.” I shook his hand and turned to usher the kids out. The tiny little resident who was trailing the cardiologist stood at the door, watching us go.

“Good bye, Max,” she chirped as he passed her. He fixed her with a look, then dropped to all fours and proceeded to bark. (Little does she realize, this is a sign of some affection from Max.) She cocked her head at him, a bit taken aback.

“You know,” I told her happily, “there are LOTS of variations on normal.”

And we made our way out into the sunshine, entirely normal, but loud.