Saturday 10 December 2016

Demented Mum: Sick and tired of her sickness shenanigans

Diary of a demented mum

Published 29/11/2011 | 06:00

God damn it, she's sick again. The high temperature, sore throat and chest infection have, your daughter insists, nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that she skips breakfast, avoids fruit, refuses to wear a coat in monster rain, and goes to bed after a shower without drying her hair.

  • Go To

None of this is connected to the fact that she has been sick four times in the last three months -- it's something else, she says sulkily.

The problem is, you're just a control freak who has to be right about everything. You make her feel that life is a test she's doomed to fail. Have you any idea what your domineering behaviour is doing to her self-esteem?

Your teeth, toes and fists clench at the same time.

The doctor prescribes antibiotics.

For once, however, the Wolverine appears to be right -- there could be more to this than meets the eye, the GP opines.

A tonsillectomy may be required so an appointment must be made with a consultant.

The Wolverine shoots you a triumphant glance.

In the meantime, the doctor emphasises, she must take her antibiotics twice a day and, very importantly, finish the course.

You sigh, anticipating the battle ahead. The Wolverine is renowned for neglecting her antibiotics once she starts to feel even slightly better.

You promise the GP, who has known your daughter since infancy, to stand over her while she swallows them.

That evening, however, the Wolverine refuses to down the tablets in your presence.

"Fine," you say wearily, handing her the container and leaving the room. "Just take them."

She doesn't, of course. You remind, you exhort, you threaten to ring the GP and report her.

In the end, she only finishes about two-thirds of the course.

The consultant is suave and pin-striped. He examines your daughter and recommends a tonsillectomy.

He gives Wolverine a choice of date -- term-time or Christmas time. They chuckle together as the Wolverine gleefully snatches the opportunity to miss up to a week of school.

He's scheduling her for an operation in early December when you intervene. Your daughter, you point out sternly, is in the Leaving Cert cycle so the Christmas holidays would be more appropriate.

And perhaps he could manage a lobotomy while he was at it, you add, sotto voce.

"I beg your pardon?" the consultant says, surprised. His bushy eyebrows rise almost to his hairline and he shoots you a shocked look, wondering if he really heard what he thought he heard.

"Yes, Christmas would definitely be best," you say smoothly as you rise to shake his hand.

Health & Living

Read More

Promoted articles

Editors Choice

Also in Life