No Scrubs

No, I don't want no scrubs

a scrub is a guy that can't get

no love from me ~ TLC

Because of her egg allergy, M has been to more than her share of doctors. In addition to her regular well checks we've been to Seattle several times to see the allergist.

On Monday, we made the drive up north for her H1N1 booster.

Poor thing has had enough and decided to make a statement.

Once inside the examining room she was happily playing in the corner until she saw the nurse walk in at which point she got up, practically ran over to me, and started yelling. There was nothing about the nurse that was intimidating. On the contrary, she was a young, pretty girl with a sweet smile and a soft voice. But a wolf in sheep's clothing as far as M was concerned. She wasn't fooled by any of the pleasantries. She knew that not far behind was the black pen that would mark the spots on her back where the dreaded little needles would poke around for the red spots that threaten to block her airwaves.

The drill goes something like this: Do skin testing for egg content in the vaccine; wait fifteen minutes; inoculate; wait half an hour to make sure there's no respiratory

reaction and/or dermatological one; get the okay to go home.

To avoid another trip there next month, on this particular day we also scheduled a follow-up visit. The doctor came in to see how she was doing. He's a big man with strong features and a much deeper voice than the nurse, but M had no concerns. We were on the home stretch, I thought. Another few minutes and we'd be off to Ikea without any further ado.

And then the skin-checker guy walks in and the yelling, running, scared-to-death look returns. That's when it hit me. The common denominator was right there in my face and

draped on his body:

SCRUBS!

Of course. After all, at her pediatrician's office it's not Dr. Harvey with her cute Goldilocks self that gives her the shots, it's scrub-wearing Karen that has the honors and the horror of that is too fresh in her mind to just let go.

Scrubs are scary. Yes, they are. They're a fashion nightmare. And they also posses the power to drive an otherwise sane little girl to the brink.

No, I don't want no Scrubs...