Last night we had the somewhat stressful experience of taking SCT to the paediatric emergency unit after an episode of intestinal flu left her dehydrated. After the drama of deciding at 9pm that this situation really did merit emergency treatment and the drive in the dark to the hospital, we sat in the waiting room and watched as other children were called up to register to be seen.
Each time they were handed a small thermometer and disappeared into the toilets.
UFM, who had twigged more quickly than I did, turned to me with fear in his eyes and said, "What do we do if they ask us to take her rectal temperature?" (At home we have an electronic thermometer that we use in SCT's ears. We've only once been asked by a doctor if we've taken her temperature in the "correct" (because apparently more accurate) way.)
In what was probably not my proudest moment as either a mother or a loyal wife, I replied, "This is your culture. You'll have to do it."
And he did ... this time round. I have a nasty feeling, though, that this is a skill I am going to have to learn.
Each time they were handed a small thermometer and disappeared into the toilets.
UFM, who had twigged more quickly than I did, turned to me with fear in his eyes and said, "What do we do if they ask us to take her rectal temperature?" (At home we have an electronic thermometer that we use in SCT's ears. We've only once been asked by a doctor if we've taken her temperature in the "correct" (because apparently more accurate) way.)
In what was probably not my proudest moment as either a mother or a loyal wife, I replied, "This is your culture. You'll have to do it."
And he did ... this time round. I have a nasty feeling, though, that this is a skill I am going to have to learn.
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