A visit to the doctor

was the major event yesterday.

Like most people I avoid going to the doctor if I possibly can.  As always our doctor was running late. It was early morning and she was already running twenty-five minutes late when I went in.

For some reason all this reminded me of visits by the school doctor when we were children. There was a school medical service when my siblings and I were at school. A doctor and nurse would come to the school and check every child. 

I suppose parents had the right to refuse but I don't know of any child who did not get inspected. We were required to undress down to our underclothes and then we would be weighed. Our eyesight and hearing were tested. We were required to open our mouths and a light would be shone down our throats as well as our teeth being inspected.  

I remember the cold sensation of the stethoscope on my chest and back as I was told to breathe in and out, in and out. We were asked to do various physical things such as stand on one leg. I failed that of course. I disliked the feel of the reflex hammer too - but mostly because I knew the doctor would try again because my reflex reactions were (and are) abnormal. 

I now wonder what my mother made of all this. As a teacher she had to support the visits of the school doctor. As a Christian Scientist it must have been an anathema to her.  If she had not been teaching I suspect she would have tried to prevent us from seeing the doctor at all.  

In my last year in the primary school I remember my father telling us the doctor would be coming. Forms were sent home to families and, some weeks later, the doctor and nurse arrived with the caravan they used. It was parked in the school play area. My father introduced the doctor and the nurse and then said,

"And now R.... and Cat it is your job to help the little ones." R... was perhaps less pleased than I was. She had at least four younger siblings at school with her. I only had three. Nevertheless we spent the afternoon and the next day making sure that the youngest students were undressed and dressed again. I remember some of them being very anxious. They had no idea what to expect. Almost all of them wanted to know if it was going to hurt. 

I know I kept telling them "no" and telling them it would "interesting". I know that the slow learning boy with muscular dystrophy who was still in the infants' class at the age of ten was so frightened he clung to me. Eventually I was allowed to sit there and cuddle him as the doctor checked him out as best could be done. 

I thought of all this and thought how nice it would be if, even as adults, we could have someone honestly reassure us that nothing was going to hurt and that it was simply going to be interesting. A hug from someone I knew and trusted? Mmm...maybe even that.