The screaming – Oh my the screaming…

Yesterday was Tia’s long-anticipated visit to the ENT. Well, long-anticipated for me. She didn’t know we were going until about an hour before the appointment.

Because I believe in the element of surprise. And because I believe in not listening to the fearful cries of my daughter for any longer than necessary.

Actually, she handled the news very well. Surprisingly well, in fact.  She didn’t freak out or ask repeatedly why.  She took it like a champ.  And I actually convinced myself that the appointment was going to go smoothly.  I entered into a fairy land where I suddenly believed that she would shed a few silent tears, but otherwise sit like a charm as the Dr. dug the hard, compacted wax out of her ears.

Further adding to my delusion was the fact that she was very excited about the ice cream treat that awaited her after the appointment as long as she promised not to scream.

Yes.  I bribed my child.  Shamelessly, I might add.  And I worded the bribe carefully in an effort to set her up for success.  All she had to do was not scream.  Crying was permitted.  Because I’m generous and a realist.  Well, almost a realist anyway…

As we waited for the nurse to call her name, Tia was as chipper as could be.  She actually seemed exctied.  Until, that is, they took us into the examining room.  That’s when she began to crumble. 

First, her chin started quivering uncontrollably.  Then, her eyes got so big they threatend to overtake her tiny little face.  After that, she crawled into my lap, her lovey bear clutched in her white knuckled fists.  Finally, she looked up at me and with a quavering voice said, “We go now and has ice team?”

I reminded her of our little deal – no screaming and we’ll go get ice cream.  She nodded her head and turned as the door opened and the nurse came in with a  thermometer.  The kind that measures the temperature in the ear.  And that, my friends, was the moment her desire for ice cream went out the window.

She screamed.  She screamed really, really loud.  And she arched her back and fell off my lap onto the floor.  It took me and the nurse by surprise.  Then it made me laugh.

After the nurse left (without getting her temperature), I reminded Tia of our little deal once more (I was willing to dole out grace at this point) and she nodded again.  Then the doctor came in and she immediately clamped her hands over her ears.

After I pinned her arms down and wrapped my leg around her legs, the doctor cautiously approached.  I think we scared him.  And just as he got the very tip of his othoscope in her ear, she let loose.

“I DON’T WANT ICE CREAM!” she screeched.  And the wailing commenced.

At that point, we all started laughing.  I tried to hold her down, but there was no containing her.  My daughter is freakishly strong.  The doctor got a quick peek in one ear.  Enough to determine that she does indeed have a lot of wax, but not enough to tell whether or not it might be impeding her hearing.

And the screaming – oh my, the screaming…

It wasn’t worth it for anyone to go on.  He sent us to audiology where they determined that she is hearing fine, then gave me my options.

1.) Ignore it and try again in a couple of years when she’s older.  The down side to this option is that the wax will continue to build and will eventually affect her ability to hear sounds.

2.) Put drops in her ears for a couple of weeks to soften the wax, then bring her back and try again.  The down side to this is that somehow we will still have to contain her long enough to let them get the wax out.

3.) Put her under general anesthesia for about 10 minutes and let them clean her ears out completely.  As far as Lee and I can tell there is no down side to this.  So I’ve got an appointment to go back in a couple of week.

All that to say…we did not get ice cream yesterday.