When we were sitting in the waiting room next to a thug of a man he repeated at least five times, "I don't wike this guy .. I do NOT wike this guy ... I don't wike this guy." Embarrassing? Yes. But somehow still humorous. I moved him when he was clearly not going to shut his little trap. Adam is after all my most persistent child - hands down.
And then as the four of us were waiting in a very tiny and ridiculously hot exam room I had to open the door to let some air in. A teenage boy with his pants around his knees and hat on sideways happened to be walking down the hall outside our door. Adam looked at him and then at me and said, "Is that a BAD guy?"
And finally, the icing on the cake. After 3 hours of waiting in a room the size of our bathroom the doctor finally knocked on the door and entered the tiny inferno. He looked about 25 (I know ... who am I to talk?), tired (once again ... who am I to talk?) and like he was going to enjoy some of Chico's finest natural medicine after his shift (at this point I might have actually been tempted myself). Adam looked him up and down. Paused a minute. Then looked at me and said, "And who is this guy?" I laughed out loud. I couldn't help myself. I'm blaming it on the lack of oxygen in that tiny room.
Waiting for Dr. Doolittle.
Henry with a fever of 103 degrees. Claire with a fever of 101 degrees. Such troopers!
Still waiting. This was about 2 1/2 hours in.
Adam wanted to "help"hold Claire.
And still waiting. Henry's body gave out after this and he climbed under the sheet on the little cot, began shivering and almost passed out. So, so sad.