The Worry Makes the Wart

My little girl had a worrisome lump on the back of her neck. It wasn’t a wart, if that’s what you are thinking. So I called the doctor and insisted she be seen the same day, because that is what helicopter parents do. I’m not a full-time helicopter parent, but I do reserve that right in the case of neck lumps. FYI.

All day, I would reach over and check the lump to see if it got larger or felt feverish. I made her rest. She ate popsicles and chicken soup, because these things solve neck lumps, naturally. She basked in the attention. I felt my blood pressure creeping ever higher as we neared the appointment, where I was certain that she would have to give blood and pee, as well as disrobe for invasive testing. I scheduled a babysitter for the other children. I knew if the other children witnessed such offenses, then I would be dragging them into the doctor kicking and screaming for all future appointments.

Lunch time passed and I set an alarm to be sure I started readying the children, packing diaper bags and snacks for the sitter’s house, scrubbing slimy faces, etc. Not to mention loading the vehicle, which is definitely a ten minute process. I packed the iPad for the lump-afflicted child, but not before researching neck lumps. Neck lumps can be just about anything, but WebMD places Lymphoma and Leukemia at the top of the list. Naturally, I texted and called close relatives. The helicopter momma had definitely lifted off.

The time for loading the vehicle came, I delegated tasks to be more efficient. We walked onto the porch and the girls headed towards my husband’s vehicle. Wait. My husband’s vehicle? No, that’s not right. We don’t fit in there. There are no car seats. I don’t have his keys.

The lesson here is that worry gets you nowhere. Literally, we were going nowhere. I had spent my whole day worrying and still missed the one thing I needed to have – transportation.

When I shared that I had been a total worry wart to my mom later, it dawned on me why they use that term. The worry makes you a wart. Worry-wart.

In the end, the doctor suspected cat scratch fever, of all things. He started her on an antibiotic to see if the lump would improve. It seems they are not eager to poke innocent little girls with needles or force them into large magnetic machines for lengthy periods of time.

Who knew?

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