Lend Me Your Ear. . .

As I am watching Joe Biden accept the vice-presidential nomination, it occurs to me that I will wake up in a few hours. I am realizing that my day will be filled with interesting stories, challenging situations, and emotional turbulence.  In my line of work, as a developmental pediatrician, I get to meet with families after the dreaded realization that their child is not the child they hoped they would raise.  In addition, I have this uncanny ability to ellicit large amounts of personal information from people, whether in my office or anywhere else.

Many times, when I am reviewing paperwork, I have to sift through these novels and sonnets composed by anxious mothers.  They chronicle every strange behavior observed, such as the things they eat, the things they watch on television, the things they do to themselves, their parents, and other kids. . . it is crazy-making.  They write this multivolume epic and do not actually say anything with substance.  But, the best part is when they come to the office.  These kids have mothers who are ready to commit verbal diarrhea in a limited 2-hour time period.  

I try to begin by asking a simple question, "What concerns do you have for your child today?"  However, it is this simple inquiry that opens a flood gate and I drown.  The anxious mothers proceed to complain about every little characteristic that they do not like about their child.  Today, I had a mother basically say, "From the beginning, I knew that something just wasn't right".  Now, how on earth do people know that something is "not right" with a newborn?  Unless they don't eat or don't sleep, it is very difficult to label a newborn as "weird".  I would literally ask this lady a question, and after twenty minutes of talking without taking a breath, she never actually answered the original question.  At that point, I could never actually remember what I asked.  The true victim is not me (even though it seems like it would be), but, actually the poor kid.  I would ask this mother a question such as, "What did your daughter eat as an infant?"  This mother would provide this very lengthy description of her breast milk, the force and velocity of the projectile vomiting, and the exact quantity that would cause the vomiting.  The schedule of the daily diet was another issue.  The child was much more efficient and sadly, much more informative.  Afterwards, I needed to spend twenty minutes on You Tube, watching "Does it Blend?", so my brain could regenerate.