Several months ago Darcy broke out with an itchy rash on her legs. It happened after shaving and so she received lots of helpful advice about razors and different shaving creams from all of us and it eventually went away. It has now reappeared and after trying itching creams and doses of Benadryl she asked to go see a doctor. Since it was Saturday I told her she would have to wait until morning since our pediatrician is only open for three hours in the early morning on the weekends. She suggested we go to the free clinic.
Me: "The what?"
Darcy: "The free clinic. The one dad took me to where he just let me go back by myself with the doctor and you got upset about that."
Our hospital chain opened up a couple of walk-in clinics, not free, several years ago, one of which happens to be down the street from my house, and we have used it frequently since I love the doctor that runs it. He was the one that calmed me after Darcy was thrown from a horse while at riding lessons, an imagine that still plays in my head when I find I haven't worried enough. The last time Darcy had gone there was when I was dealing with a crisis with my mom and so Tom had taken her because she was sick over a weekend. She called me from the exam room where he had let her go by herself because she couldn't answer the doctor's questions on whether she was allergic to any medication. I, of course, had a fit that she was back there alone, but I was thirty minutes away and Tom, when I reached him by phone, thought my concerns absurd. It had all worked out okay, but I was still a bit peeved that the clinic had taken her without a parent.
I had forgotten that the clinic was an option, and since I was tired of hearing about how she wasn't getting sleep because of the itching, I drove her there to get some answers. It was not crowded and we got right into an exam room. She hopped up on the table and when the nurse asked her why she was here I interjected and told her. She asked some more questions, which I answered, and then she said the doctor would be right in and left.
Darcy: "Mom. When the doctor comes in I will do the talking."
Me: "What?"
Darcy: "You just started answering the nurse when she was talking to me. I'll do the talking with the doctor. It is my legs that are itching. Besides I know how to handle this, remember? Dad made me come back here by myself the last time."
The door opened and my favorite doctor came in. He is a super tall Asian man with a great sense of humor and he always takes time and explains everything patiently. He shook all of our hands (Darcy's friend Sarina was with us too) and sat down, pulling his chair up close so that he could look at Darcy. He asked about her itchy legs, and I kept quiet. She began talking. And she talked, and talked, and talked. He kept smiling, asked a few other questions, and then turned to me and began to explain about inflammation and blood vessels and what was happening. He asked me if I had changed my detergent recently. Darcy piped up and answered him. And talked and talked and talked. When he would turn again to me to explain his course of treatment she would interject with something and go off again on a talking streak. The poor guy was never going to get out of there at this rate and so after about fifteen minutes of her telling unimportant details, I gently put my hand on her arm to quiet her, discussed some things with him, and got his course of treatment. He went out to write prescriptions.
Me: "Holy, talk a lot, Darcy! What was that?"
Darcy: "What? I was answering his questions."
Me: "But you just kept talking and talking even after answering him."
Darcy: "I thought the details were important."
Me: "Jeez, I guess you got that from me, but you have to learn when those details are important and when they aren't."
Darcy: "Well, that's how I'm going to learn is by doing it by myself."
The doctor came back in again with the prescriptions and he discussed again what he wanted from her. She again talked and talked and he smiled and laughed. Sarina and I laughed at both of them, and I finally stood up and told both of them their time was over. He shook our hands again and told us to call him if needed.
On the way out the door I pointed to the huge sign that covered a wall above the waiting room chairs that told the fees of all of the various tests and procedures that the clinic charged.
Me: "Oh, and Darcy? You might want to study this on your way out the door."
Darcy: "What is it?"
Me: "The charges that this "free" clinic makes everyone pay upon entering."
Darcy: "Well, just look at what a learning experience I've had today besides taking care of my itching!"
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