Ugh... what a morning. No pictures this time, and trust me, you don't want them. Avery had her 15-month checkup today and only got one vaccine, so I figured it would be an easy-breezy, in-and-out appointment. And it WOULD have been, except that as soon as we got past the fun toys in the waiting room and I set her down on the crinkly paper in the exam room, she began to scream and cry like she was being tortured.
And the doctor wasn't even in the room yet.
I guess she has finally made the connection between the crinkly paper and being undressed, poked, prodded, and pricked with needles. I tried to comfort her after the nurse measured her (weight: 22 lbs 10 oz, height: 31.5", head: 48.25 cm) and listened to her heart (which Avery apparently thought was the equivalent of having her skin ripped off and salt poured into the wounds. And I do have to admit, it was kind of funny watching Avery wave "bye-bye" to the nurse the whole time the nurse was in the room. She wanted her to leave and was not hesitating to let her know it!)
Once the nurse finally did leave, I sat Avery on my lap with her back against me, and was letting her pick freeze-dried yogurt puffs out of a baggy in my hand. The next thing I knew, I felt something wet on my hand and realized she was drooling on me. So I leaned around to look at her to see what was happening, and OH MY GOD SHE'S CHOKING. Bright red face, no sound coming out, the works. Thank God for all my lifeguard training, and my own horrible memory of choking on a peppermint when I was a kid. Before I even knew what I was doing, I had her upside-down and was giving her back blows. And out came a puddle of spit-up and all six puffs that she had tried to cram in her mouth.
I managed to clear her airway and clean the floor, myself, and her face just in time for the doctor to stroll in.
The good news is, the doctor gave her a glowing report. She is hitting all her milestones right on track, and he was very impressed with her vocabulary (I told him she says over 40 words, but he had to just trust me because she certainly was not going to talk to someone who just looked in her ears and mouth while I held her arms down. Oh, the screaming).
The doctor left and the nurse came back in for the one quick vaccine (cue more screaming, snot and tears), and then I dressed her as fast as I could and bolted out the door like a bat out of hell. The minute we were outside, she started pointing at things and cooing soft words like she usually does. It was like taking Tyson to the vet; as soon as he gets home and steps out of the carrier he transforms from a nightmarish Tazmanian Devil back into a normal cat.
End scene.
