|Wiped out kids showing their "battle wounds"|
Madeline and Max needed to have blood drawn for some diagnostic tests and had lab appointments one recent afternoon.
During the car ride over to the lab, fear struck, and after we’d arrived, they were nervous wrecks in the waiting area. Max jumped onto my lap, wrapped his arms around me and whispered repeatedly, “I’m scared, mama.” All the while, Madeline was snuggling in under my arm and looking as though she was going to burst into tears at any moment.
By the time we were finally called out of the waiting area and into the phlebotomist’s room, Madeline and Max were having full-blown melt downs. Both were crying, and Max was trying to leave the room, bellowing “You’re not going to do this to me!”
Jack was super sweet, trying to comfort his brother and sister. “I have blood drawn every year, and I promise you that it doesn’t hurt that much. It’s not that bad. Stop crying. You’ll be okay. Needles don’t hurt that much.”
After hearing that, the phlebotomist spun around and glared at Jack as if he were a freak. “You’re weird!” she said.
Excuse me??? I instantly went into D mama bear protective mode. How dare she say that to my child, who must use a needle to draw blood from his fingers 10 to 12 times per day and who must get 4 to 8 insulin injections per day in order to survive!
Could she have been any more rude, insulting and unprofessional? Who says stuff like that to a kid?
She immediately realized what she’d just said and tried to cover up with “I mean that in the best way, of course.”
Yeah, sure you do, lady!