Dr. Cranquis' Mumbled Gripes

Well, THIS was a new experience for me.

So, there’s this Mom that brings her toddler son to the Urgent Care pretty often. The poor boy probably has asthma (too young to diagnose, but always wheezing, + strong family history of asthma and allergies) and is always in my UC for “coughing and wheezing”. What makes things complicated is that the Mom and Dad are divorced, and even though they share custody, they DON’T share the same opinion about the kid’s lungs. Mom accepts that he needs to use inhaled albuterol if he starts to wheeze and cough; Dad thinks it’s “just a cold” and won’t give the kid his albuterol treatment when the kid is at Dad’s house.

(Keep in mind, this is all “hearsay” reported to me by the constantly-frustrated Mom).

Sadly, neither parent seems to be worried enough to quit smoking. But that’s not the point of today’s story. No, the point of today’s story is my “new experience”: I’m pretty sure this Mom was secretly video-taping her child’s Urgent Care visit today.

As usual, Mom brought little Albert in for cough/wheeze symptoms, and as always, the story was crammed with jabs at the Dad: “Al’s lungs are always worse when he gets back from visiting his Dad… I tell them to give the nebulizer treatment, but they forget… I think my ex-mother-in-law doesn’t even put medicine in the nebulizer when she turns it on.” I had my nurse give Albert an albuterol treatment, and then came back to the room to recheck his lungs.

I’m sitting there on my exam stool (the short one with wheels that let me glide around the exam room like “Dr. Cranquis on Ice” — whee!), listening to Albert’s much-happier post-albuterol lungs while the boy sits sleepily on his Mother’s lap. As I focus on listening to his lung bases for any sounds of pneumonia, I turn my head to the side and notice Mom’s purse and Albert’s diaper bag sitting in the corner. But what’s that sticking out from the diaper bag? Is that a — a camcorder? Weird.

Wait. The lens is pointing right at me! And it’s hard to tell, in the harsh light of the exam room, but — isn’t the little red light under the lens ON?

The thoughts race through my head as I stare at the camera: “Geez, what should I do? Do I confront her? Is this illegal? Did I say or do anything inappropriate? Aw, y’know what? I’m a parent, and I can understand how her frustration with Dad’s behaviors could make her try to get a secret “recording” of the doctor visit. She’s desperate to have some kind of evidence to back up her stance on the nebulizer treatments. I wish she would’ve just asked me to write a letter explaining the need for Albert’s treatments to be given on time, but oh well. And so what if she’s recording the visit? Shouldn’t I always perform my job in such a way that I wouldn’t be ashamed to see a recording of it later? Man, I’m not gonna hassle her about this right now.”

The whole thought process takes about 2 seconds, just 3 of Albert’s (much calmer) little breaths. But as I start to turn back to my physical exam, my mischievous side speaks up: “You can’t just let this unique experience go unnoticed!”

So I give the camera a sly wink and a half-grin.

Now I can’t wait until the next time Mom and Albert come into my Urgent Care, just to see if she mentions my small-screen debut. :)