A broken “leeber” and other ramblings

So we were at one of Grant’s ‘ologists recently. More specifically, we had an appointment with his peds neuro (translation: pediatric neurologist).

As ‘ologists go, we like her quite a bit. She is a bit older and very sweet. She is always kind – to me, to Grant and to her staff. I want to give her fashion advice because she dresses likes she’s Amish, but that’s another blog entirely.

Anyhoo, you can’t help notice this doctor’s German accent. And while I hail from the same mother country, it has been awhile since my peeps were there. Like 200 years.

And since then, they’ve been in places like Louisiana, where I was born. And as my husband will tell you, when I get mad or stressed, the N’Orleans just pops right out. Add a little flavor from my hometown in the Southern tippy-tip of Indiana, and this adds up to a helluva language barrier.

So she was asking lots of questions, and I was answering her best I could. We both had to repeat ourselves several times, making the appointment a tad lengthy. (Translation – extra time for Grant to become bored and start getting into shit. And trust me. If there is shit to be gotten into in an exam room, Grant has had ample time to discover it.)

So we are talking about Grant’s attention span (or more specifically, his total lack thereof), when I heard the familiar “puff puffing” of the blood pressure cuff attached to the wall. Double damn, Grant is taking his blood pressure (on his ankle).

Now I am trying to continue the conversation as I attempt to disengage said blood pressure cuff from said ankle (how the hell did he even it get it to stretch that far?!?!).

And then I accidentally pull the whole thing off the wall, after which I trip over a rolling stool trying to catch it before it hits the floor.

So then I compose myself, sort of, and continue the conversation.

Have I noticed any changes in his sleep, she wants to know. I am giving her the low-down when I catch Grant out of the corner of my eye and now he’s got the otoscope. I totally know what’s about to happen … yep, I called it. Straight up his nose.

I am now thinking, dear God why must they have all this medical equipment hanging all over the place in here (I mean other than the obvious). Can’t the doctors wear that shit around their waist like a tool kit?

And just as I am about to take the otoscope away, she mentions something about blood work and Grant’s “leeber.”

Wait, what did she say? His leeber? What about his leeber? Wait, what the hell is a leeber?

And even more importantly, why does she think my kid has something wrong with his?

Now I am sweating because it’s a thousand and eleventy degrees in there, medical equipment is going every which way and up the nose, and there is something wrong with Grant’s leeber and I have no fucking idea what that is.

Things can’t get much worse and then she is right up in his kool-aid measuring his head.

Oh God, why have I never noticed how bad her teeth are? Oh shit, Grant is totally, most certainly going to say something. Because this is the kind of social faux pas that autistic children may occasionally make.

Sure enough, he has now completely focused his attention on her mouth, and he is staring very intently. He starts to point, opens his mouth to ask something, and I begin a violent coughing fit, trying to drown him out.

It’s no use. He doesn’t care if I cough to death. He just wants to know what’s wrong with her teeth.

Finally, the longest appointment in history ends. Turns out, Grant doesn’t have a leeber after all. But he does have a liver.

And it’s just fine, thankyouverymuch.

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3 thoughts on “A broken “leeber” and other ramblings

  1. Carrie, you had me laughing from the get-go!
    Love your humor!
    Sarah’s is very much like yours.
    Guess it is from all the time you two girls spent together and
    the battles you two girls have waged for your two special children.
    OMGosh! I want a signed copy of your book!!!

  2. OMG, I totally can remember one said such social faux pas occuring in my very own driveway! Thank God he wasn’t referring to my own teeth! God love our Grant Man! Never a dull moment with him around. 🙂

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