Some people shouldn't be nurses/ultrasound technician people.

~
I've been very candid about my son's health problems.

Thankfully, we seem to be at the end of the road (knock wood). He's off his meds. He doesn't have to go to the doctor weekly anymore. I no longer go into over protective, get your germs away from my kid mother mode any time someone sneezes in his vicinity. He's sleeping through the night (sort of). And I haven't even gone into his room at night to check if he was breathing in at least a week. Okay, so I snuck in yesterday. And the day before that. Sue me.

There was just one more test... a heart echo. For those of you who have never had this procedure, you lie on a bed with your shirt off while a nurse or ultrasound technician person runs a wand over your chest, recording all sorts of stuff - size, beat, chambers, etc. Pretty easy if you are an adult. Pretty much sucks if you are two and don't understand.

Still, I went in prepared. Girlie had a plethora of snacks and crafts to keep her occupied and out of my hair so I could focus on Boyo. He had the DVD player and a new Elmo DVD. When we were ready to get started, I took off his shirt, climbed up on the cot with him, and held him in my arms.

He did great! Didn't even notice... until the end. The nurse/ultrasound technician person said, "Great, I need you to hold his head to the side."

"Uh, what?" I asked.

"I need to get under his chin for the last part of the echo."

Now, I am not a nurse/ultrasound technician person, so I didn't question it, but I wanted to ask why she needed to scan his neck when his heart was in his chest. Did she get lost?

My son was not happy to have me press his head sideways. He began to cry, and the nurse/ultrasound technician person said, "We need him to be quiet."

Good luck with that, lady.

"How long do I have to hold him for?" I asked.

"About five minutes," she said, jamming the wand into his neck.

Are you freaking kidding me?!?

So I pinned my son down to the cot, while he wept silent tears that fell into my hands. I sang to him and whispered nonsense to try to soothe. I promised him a trip to the 99 Cent Store and McDonald's. I told him I would take him to Disneyland. I told him that daddy would bring home M&Ms. Anything to make him happy.

He didn't scream or wail, but his tears continued to fall and his chest heaved with great big silent, gulping sobs. And even though it broke my heart, I was handling it.

Right up until the moment my 3 year old crept over to the cot, patted her brother's leg and said, "It's okay, brother, you are so brave! You don't have to cry." So naturally, I started to cry.

Nurse/Ultrasound Technician Person finished and said, "Well, hopefully that will do. Toward the end I think we picked up your and your daughter's talking. We really need quiet you know."

I gritted back a nasty retort (since my daughter would have cheerfully repeated it for ages), and said, "Well, if the doctors don't like it, they can bring him for a heart echo."

What ever happened to bedside manner?