A Pound of Her Flesh

Edited with an update at the end.

Her head on a platter.

Hell hath no fury like a mother duped.

I'm afraid that I'm feeling a little less than Christlike tonight. I think this is going to be one of those posts. Maybe I ought to start a new category; I could call it, "on the verge."

Spring is birthday season 'round here. And after the birthdays come the well-child visits to our pediatrician of nearly 7 years. We started seeing him when Dumpling was an infant because she suffered chronic, mild ear infections and he went to our church. On Sundays he brought his black bag, but not his debit machine.

We thought it a blessing, even scriptural to have found a Christian doctor to help us care for the health of our girls. And he had the sweetest nurse! Her name was Lydia; she was gregarious, demonstrative and smart. Most of all, she was careful in what she was doing and attentive to her patient...and their parent. (That will be an important detail later in the story.)

But Lydia got married and had a baby of her own. And then she moved far away to be near her own family.

So Dr. Black Bag hired a new nurse. In fact, it seems that much of his office staff is new and unfamiliar and it's seemed that way for a couple of years. But Dr. Black Bag is a good man. He loves the Lord and supports our choice to homeschool. He even regularly entertains my questions, concerns and sometimes-baseless fears about immunizations.

I've been talking with him for years about mercury preservative and dtp reaction and, oh yes--the chicken pox vaccine. The varicella vaccine is only 12 years in use, and while we've weighed the risks of other vaccinations vs. the dangers of the disease and chose to have the girls immunized, we've never had a peace about this one. There is some concern that it will only postpone the infection to adulthood, which, in turn, will make it more dangerous to the patient. And if so, and the timing were bad, it might even harm a pregnancy in progress.

It just seems a lot is yet unknown. Good, bad, or nuetral, it's a choice we've made. It's always been that way, for all our girls. And our pediatrician respects that.

During today's triple visit, it was decided that Fifi would take her meningitis shot, and Cuddlebug--poor Cuddlebug--would take 4 shots; two in each thigh. But she was brave and took the news with a smile as I promised, "Well, that's some kind of ice cream sundae you'll be due after this!"

When it came time to have the immunizations, she was shy about disrobing and scared about the shots but all the while submitted to my will as I assured her that I was right there with her and she would be o.k. I took her hands and playfully challenged her to squeeze mine as hard as she could. And she did.

I'm so grieved when I think back to that moment and the trust that she invested in me. I stared at those golden brown eyes and let go of one hand so I could stroke her forehead. I was attending to my baby, and was trusting the nurse for what she was doing.

In my peripheral vision, I saw her movements: picking up syringes, detatching the sterile cap, replacing the needle on the windowsill...one and then another.

When she moved to insert another needle into Cuddlebug's left leg, I questioned, "I thought it was supposed to be two in each thigh?"

She answered, "No, three on this side," and forged ahead.

I thought to myself that there must be an order or interaction to the grouping of the shots. And there wasn't time to question it further because she was in a rhythm and what mother in her right mind wants to stall the process and prolong the torture?

Another and another. "All done, sweetie."

But just after I got the words out, I turned my attention to the nurse to find that she was just now getting around to the last injection.

I must have miscounted. After all, I wasn't actually watching the nurse. I was ministering to my darling. I was being her mommy. I was staring into her sweet eyes, doing my best to reassure her as she did her part: trusting her mommy and behaving bravely without a single tear. In fact, she never so much as flinched or jumped or made any sound...which in hind sight probably would have helped me count the injections without babysitting the professional.

And another.

"How many was that?"

"Five."

"Five? There were only supposed to be four! What did you give her?"

*incredulous stare*

What she gave her was the varicella vaccine that we've never, ever consented to. I don't remember the rest of the conversation well enough for quotes, but it involved her defending herself that she just did what was on the chart, and my staring at her in complete disbelief, thinking how ridiculous I would sound if I started yelling, "Take it out..take it out!"

She continued to defend herself and I continued to inform her, "My children have never taken the chicken pox vaccine. Ever. Any of them."

And really, my biggest problem with the chain of events (and I told her so) was that, "When I told you that I thought it was supposed to just be 2 in each thigh, if you had just stopped and listened, we could have communicated about this!"

Now she was mirroring my stare. Neither of us could believe what had happened.

Well, I like to think she couldn't believe it. I'm not sure really because she didn't apologize. She just left the room and sent Dr. Black Bag back in.

As it turns out, the chart was right. She was wrong. My Cuddlebug has an uninvited foreign matter inside her, and I am the one who held her down while this wrong was inflicted upon her. For a minute I even despised my place in Christ, realizing that if my father's daughter (small "f") had been in the examination room instead of my Father's daughter, (capital "F") then this might not have happened because my earthly father raised himself some mean, confrontational, litigious-minded strong daughters.

*exhale*

Now, I don't really want the nurse's head on a platter. Or a pound of her flesh. But an apology...better yet, some kind of acknowledgment from her that she understands the profound impact of her position and a humble assurance that she'll be more careful for the sake of others would help me cope, I think.

Because I'm not handling this very well. My failure and lack of vigilance is weighing me down and my heart is very heavy within me.

Edited with this update:

Today, a new blog-friend, Molly, exercised grace when she emailed me to gently call me to account.

That's my kind of Sister!

Having read my blog for awhile, she thought this post didn't sound like me. I wish I could say that the devil made me do it, but truly, it was just an honest account of my natural reaction being tempered somewhat by the Spirit of God inside me. Because I didn't actually extract a pound of flesh, now did I? Left to myself...

Anyhoo...I spoke at length with Dr. Black Bag yesterday evening. He's kind of a family friend--certainly we enjoy a stronger rapport than just any old pediatrician/patient relationship. He listened well, was responsive to my concerns, apologetic, forthcoming with the assurance that he will be examining some new procedures in the administration of immunizations, and he was pretty transparent about how this might end.

Apparently the assistant's non-communicative ways have been an issue in the past. Only now has it affected her competency.

I told him how afraid I was of his office now, and he very kindly assured me there would be no hard feelings between us if we chose to go to another doctor because of the damage done to our trust. I told him how much I appreciated that, but that we would be praying about that decision, because it's a big one, and we don't want to be hasty.

I'm not interested in rubbing his assistant's nose in this mistake. I'm not excited about making a report or causing harm to her career. But I prayerfully know that God would not have had me sweep this danger under the rug. There are mistakes that we should let love cover, and then there are mistakes from which we should reasonably attempt to protect others.

And I will not be so surprised to find out on the other side of my last breath, that...maybe, just maybe He let this happen to us because her deficits can now be revealed without damage or devastation to this Godly man's medical practice. Others would sue. We would much rather be wronged and trust the Lord for it.