Dude. Let's do this later.

So My Little Guy seems to have inherited my delightful amoxicillian allergy. He's been on it before, but this time around (mild ear infection), he broke out in hives and splotchy red patches all over his body. I called the doctor who recommended Benadryl. I gave him some and it cleared right up.

At that point we didn't connect it to the amoxicillian because he's been on it several times before with no problems. Then my mom told me that my sister's allergic reaction didn't happen the first time she took it, but a couple times later. Apparently Dr. Google concurs that it sometimes takes several exposures to trigger an allergic reaction.

So we wake up today, he's hive-free so I sent him to school and called the doctor to ask about the amoxicillian allergy. They said they can't diagnose him without seeing the hives, which is fair. Problem is there were no hives. I would have gladly pulled him out of school to get this thing nailed down but he was hive-free. Curse you Benadryl and your effectiveness. Doctor agrees there's no point in bringing him in without the hives and we go on with our days.

Noon rolls around and I go to pick My Guys up. Hives! Hives! He has a hive on his face!

I've never been so excited to see a hive on a child before. I called the doctor and they got us an appointment so they could see the hives and we can get him allergy diagnosed.

Problem was that the appointment was smack dab in the middle of naptime, which mean no naps after school which meant my wonderful children were cranky, fussy messes by the time it came to leave for the doctor.

I manage to get them wrangled into the car and we head off to the doctor. Miraculously we don't wait long and the nurse calls us in fairly quickly.

Now, I love our doctor. We chose them based on a friend's recommendation and it's worked out very well. I have pretty much nothing negative to say about them.

What we found out after we started going there was that (now follow along here) the mom of one of the kids my sister went to grade school with is the office manager there. Normally this is no big deal and we say hi and exchange pleasantries (ok, so yes, that is awful - small talk, UGH) and move on with our lives.

But not today. Nooooooooo. Today this bitch follows us into the exam room and starts asking random questions about if my parents are still in their old house, and telling me about her family. Fine, whatever, I can pretend to care in a normal situation, but apparently she feels her small talk is more important than me answering the nurse's questions about My Little Guy's rash/hives.

So I have Mrs. Small Talk chattering on, the nurse is trying to get information about My Little Guy, My Big Guy is looking at pictures on my phone and telling us all what's happening  in them at volume 289473 in the tiny exam room, and My Little Guy is using the exam table like a playground.

I really feel like I deserve a prize for not turning to Mrs. Small Talk and just yelling, "Shut the fuck up! Just shut up! I don't care!" so I could, you know, attempt to medically care for my child.

The the kicker - Mrs. Small Talk tells us to say hi to Yiya.

...

Oh boy.

My Big Guy looks up from my phone and says, "Yiya died." Mrs. Small Talk looks at me and I'm fighting back tears and tell her, "Yes, Yiya passed away in April."

Then, while the nurse is STILL trying to get her answers Mrs. Fucking Small Talk starts asking me about Yiya.

Ok. I get it. You want to know what happened. You don't mean any harm. I understand that.

But seriously. It's like a fucking circus in this exam room, I'm obviously trying not to cry and YOU JUST KEEP ASKING SHIT.

I finally just gave up and basically ignored her while focusing on the nurse and finally was able to give her the information about My Little Guy's rash/hive situation and Mrs. Small Talk left but dude. Fucking time and place lady. If she had waited and accosted us on our way out it would have been so much better than attempting to have a conversation about where my parents live and who they're still friends with now. Dude lady, you're a mom AND you work in a pediatrician's office! Get a clue! Gah!

We eventually saw the doctor, and yes, it was noted in My Little Guy's chart that he now has an amoxicillian allergy and won't be prescribed that anymore. We grabbed a couple of suckers, said goodbye to Nemo and his daddy in the fish tank, and oh yeah, I ignored Mrs. Small Talk as she said goodbye on the way out. Immature passive-aggressive moves for the win!