(no subject)
May. 30th, 2006 04:21 pmAnother thing about the cardiology appointment:
I'm accustomed to thinking of big teaching hospitals as places where one encounters great expertise and technical skill, coupled with lousy bedside manner. Not, apparently, in the Hopkins pediatric cardiology clinic. I was amazed and impressed.
First, a technician weighed and measured Alex, gave her an EKG, and took her blood pressure. Of course, Alex is an old pro at being weighed and measured, but the EKG was something totally new and (I would have thought) rather intimidating. The tech kept up a soft, cheerful patter that almost seemed to hypnotize Alex, as she placed electrodes all over her chest and then clipped leads to them. "I'm going to put stickers on you! Let's count the stickers, one, two, three... aren't the stickers pretty, yes, you have pretty stickers on you. Now let's see what colors I have... red, blue, yellow..." Alex listened quietly, watching her flying fingers. I kept one hand on her for comfort, but I didn't even really need to restrain her - she just needed one gentle reminder not to touch the wires. The tech was so fast, and so good at holding Alex's attention, that the EKG was less stressful than, say, combing oatmeal out of her hair.
After enough of a wait to really get Alex cranky, the resident came in. Now, I'm used to residents (a) having unpolished interpersonal skills, and (b) thinking that the best approach to a child is loud, cheerful, and hearty. This guy had me hold Alex on my lap and knelt down before her. As he took every pulse she has (ankles, knees, thighs, wrists, elbows, armpits, neck), he spoke so quietly that he was almost whispering. "Do you have feet? Here are your feet... and you have knees, here are your knees..." Parts of the body are second only to dogs in her interest, these days, so she relaxed quietly in my lap and paid close attention to him. He kept up his quiet, soothing commentary as he listened to her chest and back, and she was perfectly compliant. Given her mood just before he came in, I really think that an energetic, toy-waving, hearty approach would've been disastrous. He then went on to make faces at her while the attending examined her. He had a good manner with us, too - simple and matter-of-fact, and apparently very comfortable with the limits of his authority. ("It sounds like an innocent murmur to me, but we're going to get Dr. Scheel in here because she's the boss.")
I'm still very anxious about what the echocardiogram will show, but at least I don't have to worry about how Alex will be treated.
I'm accustomed to thinking of big teaching hospitals as places where one encounters great expertise and technical skill, coupled with lousy bedside manner. Not, apparently, in the Hopkins pediatric cardiology clinic. I was amazed and impressed.
First, a technician weighed and measured Alex, gave her an EKG, and took her blood pressure. Of course, Alex is an old pro at being weighed and measured, but the EKG was something totally new and (I would have thought) rather intimidating. The tech kept up a soft, cheerful patter that almost seemed to hypnotize Alex, as she placed electrodes all over her chest and then clipped leads to them. "I'm going to put stickers on you! Let's count the stickers, one, two, three... aren't the stickers pretty, yes, you have pretty stickers on you. Now let's see what colors I have... red, blue, yellow..." Alex listened quietly, watching her flying fingers. I kept one hand on her for comfort, but I didn't even really need to restrain her - she just needed one gentle reminder not to touch the wires. The tech was so fast, and so good at holding Alex's attention, that the EKG was less stressful than, say, combing oatmeal out of her hair.
After enough of a wait to really get Alex cranky, the resident came in. Now, I'm used to residents (a) having unpolished interpersonal skills, and (b) thinking that the best approach to a child is loud, cheerful, and hearty. This guy had me hold Alex on my lap and knelt down before her. As he took every pulse she has (ankles, knees, thighs, wrists, elbows, armpits, neck), he spoke so quietly that he was almost whispering. "Do you have feet? Here are your feet... and you have knees, here are your knees..." Parts of the body are second only to dogs in her interest, these days, so she relaxed quietly in my lap and paid close attention to him. He kept up his quiet, soothing commentary as he listened to her chest and back, and she was perfectly compliant. Given her mood just before he came in, I really think that an energetic, toy-waving, hearty approach would've been disastrous. He then went on to make faces at her while the attending examined her. He had a good manner with us, too - simple and matter-of-fact, and apparently very comfortable with the limits of his authority. ("It sounds like an innocent murmur to me, but we're going to get Dr. Scheel in here because she's the boss.")
I'm still very anxious about what the echocardiogram will show, but at least I don't have to worry about how Alex will be treated.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:53 pm (UTC)Henry will be about that age when we go back for his second session at the GW infant studies center. They put electrodes on him at four months, but he was too little to really try to pull them off then. I hope he behaves half as well as Alex did! What a sweetie. Sounds like she was more interested than anything.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:54 pm (UTC)*waves the flag for tertiary-care paediatric academic health sciences centres*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 08:56 pm (UTC)*hugs* to you and a nosebeep to Alex.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 10:34 pm (UTC)Gold stars for both of you, seriously.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 01:25 am (UTC)The folks at CHOP's outpatient dermatology clinic were equally good, though I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing when the senior dermatologist referred to my son's bottom as his "butt-butt."
no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-31 11:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-01 09:59 am (UTC)Yay for happy experiences!