Ella is terrified of doctors. She is also terrified of buildings that look like they may contain doctor’s offices, and walking into any office can be a nightmare. A trip to my accountant induces a meltdown!

Today we spent four hours in the car getting Ella to a pediatric ENT to have her ears checked. We were no longer impressed with our local ENT’s short, mumbled responses to our questions, and less than impressive treatment options. “Tubes again,” is about all we can get out of him.

I was expecting Ella to start screaming the instant we got out of the car but was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps she thought that once again I was the one going to the doctor, as she accompanied me to my doctor last week and screamed until she saw me going into the doctor while she remained outside with my son.

In any case, she entertained herself happily in the office, and only cried when they tried to get her to step on a scale. That I can relate to!

Once inside the doctor’s office I explained to her that her ears would be checked, and she pantomimed the procedure over and over. How many times have we played with her doctor’s kit at home, examining each other’s hearts, ears and blood pressure? When the doctor came in she said hi and remained calm, although she was clutching onto my sleeve with a death grip. Then came the moment he had to check her ears; oy…it was bad.

When Ella screams and cries it is heart breaking. She gets so upset that it takes several minutes to unwind and get her breath back. Bless this doctor – he stepped out, arranged for her to have a hearing test, and said he’d come back when she was completely calm. He also remarked that “that poor little girl has been traumatized by all this.” I was ready to nominate him for sainthood!

To Ella’s credit she cooperated beautifully during the hearing test and the audiologist was very impressed with her concentration. Now, we just had to hear the doctor’s decision and we were done. When he walked back into the examining room, she started to cry and he quickly showed her that he was not going to examine her. She relaxed and crawled onto my lap and listened, eating her tenth graham cracker with relish.

Every time I have to take Ella to the doctor, I get a sick feeling. I hate to hear her cry so hard, all the time yelling “Mama.” I can only imagine what is going on in her mind that she is so terrified. What worst case scenario is she imagining? Why is her Mommy cooperating in this ordeal? Her regular doctor assured me that it would probably pass by the time she was two – now she says three, and smiles.

I’ve considered grabbing a total stranger and offering him/her a hundred dollars to take her to the doctor; family and friends can’t be bribed.

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