This week we had a unique experience with Trent at Children's Hospital. He developed a limp for no apparent reason, though wasn't showing any signs of pain, just a little slower than usual. So after three days we took him to his doctor who did bloodwork which indicated inflammation. The doctor referred us to Children's hospital and an orthopedic specialist ( I think that what's its called). We weren't too worried about him but our doctor convinced us to go so Greg and I went on Friday. After two hours of waiting and chasing and trying every trick known to humankind to entertain Trent we were ushered . . . finally . . . to yet another waiting room. After which we waited and were ushered into a room . . . to wait some more.
After nearly 3hours a nurse practitioner or equivalent came to look at Trent and watch him walk and so on. He left us for some time . . . who knows I lost track . . . and then the nurse and the real doctor entered. The doctor was a tall, slender, dark and dignified Russian man with an air of strictly business.
The doctor began talking and I was straining to make out his words through his heavy accent. I picked Trent up and tried to put him on my lap in an effort keep him quiet. He stood on my lap and refused to sit. The doctor continued mumbling an indiscernible mumbo jumbo diagnosis when the room suddenly went . . . pitch black. Awkward silence. Then flick . . . light . . . then dark . . . then light . . . then dark. On and off and on and off went the light switch under Trent's control. This was his happiest moment! The doctor, though highly irritated continued on, while the rest of us chuckled. I guess we really saw the light at that moment and realized it was just time to go home!
(Just in case you're worried Trent is totally fine. He merely had a cold that went to his joints and caused some inflammation and thus the limp.)
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