All Is Well That Ends Well

The pediatrician's office was fuller than usual. A cluster of quiet children played on the floor with that wooden bead thing, sliding the colored balls over the wire hills. Others had their heads hunched over books, some getting read to in a loud whisper. No one was coughing and the designated sick area was a lonely row of empty seats. We were here for a "Well Check" and most likely everyone else was, too.
Although I am grateful for summertime's vacation from colds and flu, these types of visits have always made me tense. Kenz was nervous too, knowing that once inside the little room that had crispy paper on the spongy 'table', she was going to feel--- pain.
Earlier in the day before we took her in for her required preschool immunizations, Kenz and I had 'played doctor.' We've played the game before, but this time we used my real stethoscope from my hospital nursing days and an old name tag I had worn as a home health nurse. I thought we'd get right to the visit, but Kenz stationed herself at her little table and became the receptionist. After I told her which doctor I was going to see, she escorted me to a little chair and told me the doctor would see me in a few minutes. When the doctor 'came in,' the first thing she said was "you are getting a shot today." I got the painful plastic injection(above my knee) after she looked in my ears (with an old key chain), took my blood pressure (it was 17), and took my temperature (it was 17). I tried to put the stethoscope in her ears so she could listen to my heart, but it pinched too hard, so she listened with it wrapped around her neck.
When the real doctor was examining her, she told him, "that thing around your neck is a stethoscope." He was impressed and taught her the word for the ear light--- Otoscope. Then he asked her several probing 'early childhood development' questions, afterwards turning to mom and grandma, insisting--- "she is very smart." When his summary was entered into the computer, Kenz blurted out loudly, "I want my shots!"
"She wants her shots over with," I interpreted. He had explained to her mother which ones she was due for, but had avoided the subject with Kenz. "The nurse will be right back with them," he said bidding us farewell.
That clump of time between the doc's departure and the nurse's arrival has to be--- almost as bad as the shot, maybe worse. Her mother held her hand ,while I fidgeted with my purse. When the needles came in, I didn't want to watch, but I ended up glancing over just as the first sharp made it's way into her upper arm. Kenz, even at four and half, started screaming and the tears flowed, "it hurts, it hurts!"
Probably the best thing about a 'well check' is what happens afterwards----pretty pink band aids, a Doodle Bop sticker and of course, Banana Gelato.