So We Were at the Troop Medical Center

Current mood: annoyed

Watch out, lane changes will occur with little or no warning in this one-

A couple of weeks ago La Princessa began complaining about a pain in her foot. I usuallly have a complaint about her only it is slightly further northward. After asking if there was a sore or anything there, I took her complaint seriously and told her if it continued or got worse to tell me. Last week she complained again and showed me a bump thing in the middle of the ball of her foot. I told her what I thought and what I thought we should do- watch her a little more.

Over the weekend she spent some time limping and on Monday night she said it was feeling a little better but that the bump thing was bigger. I forgot about it yesterday but it was bugging her at practice last night, so I decided to call in for an appointment today. Oh joy.

Our appointment line turns on at 6:45 and if you are not calling in at 6:41 you aren't likely to get an appointment. Why? Military health care, which I do not normally complain (too much) about, is a big giganticus HMO and most of our primary care doctors/nurse practitioners/physician's assistants and the like, are housed in very large clinic-style facilities and ours is overtaxed. Bigtime. See, Fort Bliss is growing tremendously and will be doubled to about 30,000 active duty Soldiers within the next four years. That number does not include their families or the civilian work force necessary to support the growth. So when we call Central Appointments, the appointments we may or may not get are a bit of a crapshoot. I called at 6:47 because I lost track of time. Dude gave me the only appointment available- 8:00, take it or leave it. I took.

Both kids were still in morning coma and my hair was dripping wet, but we pulled it together and left the house at 7:28 to get Nolan to school and us to post. I dropped Amanda in the parking lot and told her to check in because we just did squeak through the traffic jam at Marshall and Fred Wilson with enough time for her to check in. So, she went in and I parked. They called her just as I got in the lobby. Our lobby is huge. I would say about 200 people can be seated and/or waiting at any given time. There are tons of providers and I couldn't begin to tell you how many, but my estimate is somewhere around 40? Anyone assigned to the Troop Medical Center, which is not officially called the Soldier Family Medical Center (but I refuse to call it that because they have only renamed it four times in the last five years and I am not changing it anymore), can be seen there, from newborns to Generals, so it is a pretty hoppin' type o' place. Today was no exception.

When they called her back we manuevered through the Wounded Warriors and the strollers and the medics and the escorts and the everything to get to our nurse. She had to take us to two different rooms for Amanda's triage. In between those rooms is another waiting area for Soldiers on sick call. Now, my kid is pretty. Many (most) of these Soldiers are less than three years older than her. Yes, they noticed. Aside from my nearly hyperventilating at their checking her out, I realized something which shouldn't really be that big of a surprise to me after seventeen years. I am a part of a military community, as are my kids. We visit, on a nearly daily basis, a cesspool of unbridled, barely post-pubescent testosterone. Minor panic attack. Oh, and we're moving to a training post with our gorgeous fifteen year old, very innocent daughter. Holy crap. OK.

Once we were settled and waiting on the doctor, another nurse (whom I assume is assigned to another provider, becuase it is usually one nurse/medic to each provider) knocked on our door, opened it and then mumbled something and shut the door again. Excuse me, door closed-medical facility-you're shocked that a patient was present? Whatevah. Keep your unintelligible self out of my kid's room, K?

Our doctor came in and hallelujah, she was active duty! I love active duty doctors. They are awesome and usually very personable and to me, they really listen to the patient. So, we were lucky today and didn't get the person who can't seem to manage outside on the economy, but chooses to serve the military and their families with their talents and knowledge. So there. She took Amanda's history and crinkled her nose when she learned that she cheers and wrestles and then mashed on the foot with the growing bump/nodule/knot/growth thing. And, what did she ascertain? This is not a tumor nor a nodule nor a knot but it is a blister. Heh? A blister? It is huge and hiding up in her foot space. Yup, its a blister which has formed up in the muscular part of the ball of her foot but it can't come to the skin's surface because she is so active that her skin on the bottom of her foot is thick. I know, sounds really flipping weird. She told us to soak it and gave us some military Skittles (Motrin) and sent us on our way.

That meant we had to return to the main waiting area for the pharmacy. No problem, or so I thought. I sent Amanda over to get our number at the pharmacy while I turned in a form at the front desk. After a minute I joined her in the corner of the waiting area the pharmacy uses. As soon as I got there I noticed the overwhelming "scent" of crap. Yes, sorry, gross I know, shoulda been there, it was awful! Again, all kinds of peeps there and you never know what you are going to get.

Today we got a sprinkling of all kinds and I am cool with that. What I am not cool with is stinky baby and her momma. This mom was in her early twenties and dressed nicely. Not extravagantly, just nicely. She was clean and seemed to have HER business in check. Her daughter was probably a little over two. They had an umbrella stroller, but the baby wasn't sitting in it. She was wandering, which I can also deal with. Here's where I start to lose my dang mind. This child had on socks. No shoes. She was old enough to walk and was walking, in public, at a medical facility which services sick people -in socks. Which were black. Socks, and it was a chilly morning, somewhere around 35 when we left the house. She was the obvious culprit of the engulfing poo-ness. As she toddled about, it wafted and wafted and wafted. Most of us were on the verge of gagging but it didn't seem to phase her mother. This poor baby's hair was shoulder length and not brushed. Baby-fine hair tangles and assumes the strangest of positions and is easy to spot when not groomed. Her face was not dirty, but there were obvious booger tracks from her nose to her mouth. They were thick and white and had been there for a while. I wanted to slap her mother, who had not brought a diaper bag, but had managed to slip a bottle of milk (ew, no telling how old it was) in her Dooney and Bourke.

Obviously, this is a person who understands a few things about life like showering and wearing clothing appropriate for the weather, including footwear. She must be able to afford something in the shoe family for this child if she can afford the dual purpose purse/bottle tote bag she had, so why the obvious omission of footwear? I looked. There were none in the stroller. The bag was too small to house them (it was like a roomy wallet with a strap), there were no shoes.

What the heck? Is it me? Am I the problem because I think that a child of walking age ought be shod in something sutiable for their age and walking ability? Is it too much to ask to take twenty seconds to run a comb through your child's hair or swipe their face with a baby wipe every hour? And, even more importantly, this mom didn't seem to be waddling around in her own poo. What the heck is the problem? Take the baby to the bathroom, where they do have a changing table, and change her pants. Sheesh! I can't imagine how long the load had been there, but the diaper was sagging and bulging pretty badly. How hard is it? Change the diaper.

Change it and then I will think you are a reasonable person. But, until then, I think you are an idiot. And put some friggin' shoes on your kid.

Currently listening:Little Tiny Smelly BitBy The Stinky PuffsRelease date: 1995-06-22