Who knew strep throat could be a learning experience?

Welcome to the GH Parent Workshop Forum! Please feel free to comment, ask a question or tell a story of your own. I'll be contributing my favorite stories and doing some problem solving as requested!

This week we talked about the importance of adding acknowledging feelings and listening to your parenting toolbox. I faced a problem similar to the role play that you were kind enough to participate in, (Thanks for taking that leap of faith with me!), when my oldest daughter had chronic strep throat as a first grader. Each time we got into the car to head to the Dr's. office she would begin to cry and carry on about how much it hurt to get her throat swabbed. She would beg me not to make her do it. I would respond in what I thought were helpful ways:
“Oh, honey it’s not that bad.”
“It’s over before you know it; just close your eyes for goodness sakes.”
“Really, you’re getting yourself worked up over something that’s not that big of a deal.”
“Come on H., you know this is important. The doctor has to do this or he won’t know what’s making you sick. You want your throat to stop hurting right? Well, than we have to get your throat swabbed.”

You can imagine how persuasive all of these comments were. The more I explained, lectured and denied her feelings the more she committed to convincing me that this was the worst possible thing that was going to ever happen to her. By the fourth trip to the doctor it took two nurses and me to hold her down for the throat swabbing and I imagine the scream she let out during this process is still legendary among the office staff.

Then I re-read the "Dealing with Children's Feelings" tip sheet (In your I want to live on your refrigerator handout...) from How to Talk So Kids Will Listen. I tried not to feel too crummy about forgetting all those communication skills while I waited for my next chance to use them. (As I said, I never worry too much about feeling some interaction didn’t go well, I always get another chance to try something different!) Two weeks later here we were on our way to the doctor again. H. begins the usual screaming and carrying on, and I’m thinking we might need three nurses this time. I figured I had nothing to lose by trying some of the skills from the tip sheet sheet. Here’s how our conversation went this time:

Me: “Wow. You’re really upset about having to go back to the doctor. You really hate getting your throat swabbed!”
H: “Yeah, it hurts! It really, really hurts!”
Me: “Ouch!”
H: “Yeah, I hate it. I gag every time. It’s yucky.”
Me: “Boy, that's bad.”
H: “And that one nurse is the worst. She really pokes me. It always hurts more when she does it.”
Me: “So, you don’t like it when that one nurse is the one to swab your throat.”
H: “No. Do you think Dr. D could do it instead of her?”
Me: “Sure. Would that make it easier for you?”
H: “I guess so. You know what else would make it easier?”
Me: “Mm, mm.”
H: “It would be easier if I could sit on your lap and you would cover my eyes.”
Me: “So, let’s see if I’ve got this right. If Dr. D does the swabbing, and you sit on my lap and I cover your eyes, than that would make it easier?”
H: “Yeah. It’s still going to hurt though.”
Me: “Swabbing already sore tonsils. Ouch.”
H: Silent. No tears. No crying.

And that was that. No screaming, no nurses, just me and Dr. D.
The power of empathy. Try it at your house.

I'm looking forward to seeing all of you the week of March 16.