Fun with Percentiles!

Mia had to have her pre-admission doctor’s exam before starting school this fall.  She hadn’t been to the doctor since our beloved Dr. Tulin retired, so this new cat we were seeing was uncharted waters for us. She’s Russian.  From her name, that’s all we could tell.  Then we met her.  And she was nice enough, but not what we had hoped for.  I guess we just went from what we considered the best children’s doctor in the entire universe to a fairly new doctor who does everything by her charts and what the papers and computer screen is telling her to do.  Ugh.

Then she brought up Mia’s, shall we say, heftiness?

In her thick Russian accent (Think Natasha from Bullwinkle) “It looks like she’s in the higher percentile for her weight.  We don’t want her getting too high because that’s when the concern for obesity comes in.”

Excuse me?  Oh, no she didn’t!  I’ve seen obese.  My child is nowhere near obese.  Trying to keep my attitude in check, “Yeah, I don’t think she’s going to be obese, doctor.  She’s always been a thicker kid, that’s just her.”

(I effing hate the “percentiles”.  Seriously, hate.  They’re meant to fit your child inside a box of what’s “normal” in the eyes of who?  Exactly.  I think what made me hate them even more was both the worry and boasting of different parents around me that would throw their child’s percentiles around like they meant everything.  Hearing friends worry about their little ones that were in the low percentiles for weight and the doctor might have to put them on some kind of supplements if they didn’t start eating certain things more and gaining weight, and they were just sure their child was not going to grow normally.  Or worse, the parents who loved to say things like, “Little Suzy is going to be so tall!  She’s in the 99.999999999th percentile for her height and her doctor said she’s such an incredible phenomenon!”  Chik-Chik…that’s me racking my theoretical shotgun to end my torture of having to listen to that crap all too many times.)

By her frozen-smiled blank stare, I could tell she wasn’t quite buying it.  “Okay. Let’s go through her food intake and activity in a day.”

You are kidding.  Ok, lady.  Ya got me.  We start our day of with pancakes galore, naturally slathered with the lardiest lard  and syrup we can find. She gets a minimum of 8 hours of television a day, and to ensure that, she’s tied to a chair the entire time.  We continuously gorge on anything fried, fatty or fabulous until dinner when we eat greasy McDonald’s, pizza, you name it – if it’s disgusting, we’re eatin’ it!  We follow that up with cake, cookies and buckets and buckets of ice cream.  Oh, is that the wrong kind of diet?  You’re kidding?  I had no idea, as I’m such a complete moron who doesn’t know a healthy diet from a heart attack.  Take me to bad-parenting jail now.

So we went through her usual daily meals and snacks, and her daily activity.  And what did she say?  Nothing.  Because she couldn’t say anything.  Mia eats incredibly well and gets plenty of exercise.  Of course she sometimes has sweets and pizza and her Happy Meal – she’s a kid!  But that’s sometimes.  I don’t let her eat like crap and I’m lucky enough to have a child who loves her fruits and veggies.  She’s just naturally a little thicker.  So what.

And then she tried it.  “Well, maybe she should stay away from juices.  They’re just unnecessary sugar.”

“She doesn’t really drink juice.  I know it’s just sugar, that’s why I don’t let her drink it very often.”

Still with the frozen smile, “Okay, good.  And maybe just try to limit her bready carbohydrate intake like with the toast at breakfast and sandwich at lunch and the bread with dinner.”

“That’s whole wheat/whole grain bread and that’s half a piece of toast at breakfast and half a sandwich at lunch and maybe half a piece at dinner.  So she has maybe two pieces of bread throughout the day.”

Although I was as pleasant as possible, I think she could tell I was getting irritated.  “Okay. Well, she’s not there yet, but we just want to watch that to make sure she doesn’t go above where she should be.  So we’ll see how she does at her 4-year visit.”

Yeah, lady.  Okay.  Whatever you say.  Wouldn’t want her “percentiles” to read wrong.  That might throw off the balance of gravity and disturb the Earth’s orbit around the Sun and all would be lost.  And who wants that, right?

And then…she gave me…this…

Oh. My. God.  I laughed.  I couldn’t help it.  I think she realized it was both insulting and just plain stupid.  “This is just a guideline to help with portions and what each meal consumption should consist of.”

Really?  Does your checklist on your computer screen tell you that this visit is almost over because I’m just about there.

- Try and make patient feel inadequate as a parent: ✓
- Look like a moron: ✓
- Barrage about diet and activity: ✓
- Hand out idiotic “Healthy Plate” chart: ✓
- Look like an even bigger moron: ✓

Job well done!

Needless to say, we miss our old doctor.  Dr. Tuuulliiinnn! Where are yoooouuu?!  Oh, that’s right. Enjoying your retirement and the fact that you don’t have to deal with little snotty noses anymore. 

Well, this mother and her little snotty nose miss you dearly.