lice.
Carla said, “Why don’t I have a look?” She parted the boy’s hair. In less than five seconds, Carla counted a dozen little buggers, and a thriving crop of shiny, teardrop shaped eggs. It was Times Square in there. No wonder the kid was itchy. Carla parted another section. Along with mobs of lice, she found infected scratch divots. The boy had been clawing at himself.
For how long?
she wondered.
Meanwhile, the mother warily watched Carla. In equal parts, the look said, “Please let him be okay,” “Don’t blame me,” and “How much is this going to cost?” Carla stepped away, removed her gloves and put them in the medical waste can. If the mother thought she was saving herself time by postponing the doctor’s appointment, she was in for a shock when she found out what was in store for her now: washing all the bedding in hot water; vacuuming all the carpets, upholstery, and furniture twice; putting all stuffed animals and pillows in garbage bags for two weeks washing all of Jamal’s clothing, coats, hats, backpacks; replacing all brushes; to say nothing of the hours she’d have to spend picking through his hair with a fine-toothed steel lice comb.
“At the start of the school year, we see a lot of lice. You should report his condition to his teachers so his classmates can be checked,” said Carla. “We have a fact sheet with instructions.”
“Okay,” said the mother, impatient or … what? Resentful. Blaming the messenger.
“The eggs or nits are tough to get rid of. But if you don’t, he’ll suffer a reinfestation. Also, Jamal’s scalp is infected from scratching and he’ll need a prescription antibiotic.”
“How much is that?” asked the woman.
Carla said, “That depends on your plan.” Judging the look on the woman’s face, she didn’t have health insurance. In New York, lower-income families qualified for the affordable state plan called Child Health Plus. The paperwork was a bit challenging. A lot of overworked parents didn’t have the time or wherewithal to sort through it.
Carla said to the mother, “I should take a look at your scalp, too.”
“Me? I’m fine.”
The woman had an elaborate woven hairdo that would have to be unraveled. It probably costs quite a bit at the beauty shop. More than the antibiotics her son needed.
“The exam shouldn’t take more than a minute,” said Carla, giving it another try.
“I said I’m fine.”
Carla sighed, and made eye contact with Tina. She had her witness that Ms.—she checked Jamal’s chart—Ms. Williams refused an examination. But it wasn’t enough anymore. She’d have to get it in writing, or Ms. Williams could make a load of trouble later on if she accused Carla of negligence.
“I’m going to have to ask you to sign a piece of paper that states you refused to be examined, all right?”
Ms. Williams rolled her eyes and said, “I’m not signing anything.”
Carla, way behind schedule, was not going to argue. “Tina, please give Ms. Williams the fact sheet and instructions. You’ll notice that we recommend buying a fine, steel lice comb. The best one is from Germany and costs sixty dollars. It’s expensive, but it really works.”
“I’ll get the lice shampoo for ten bucks at the drug store.”
“That won’t kill the nits.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“You’ll be right back here in two weeks.”
Ms. Williams groaned and asked, “What do you suggest that won’t cost me hundreds of dollars?”
Steady
, thought Carla.
She doesn’t really resent me
, she reminded herself.
It’s a tough situation. Empathy. Show empathy
. Carla said, “I know you must feel put out and upset. Getting rid of lice is a job and a half. I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news.”
“Yeah,” said Ms. Williams, scooting Jamal off the exam table. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Good luck,” said Carla, quickly writing a prescription for antibiotics and forcing it on Ms. Williams before she exited
Carla said, “Why don’t I have a look?” She parted the boy’s hair. In less than five seconds, Carla counted a dozen little buggers, and a thriving crop of shiny, teardrop shaped eggs. It was Times Square in there. No wonder the kid was itchy. Carla parted another section. Along with mobs of lice, she found infected scratch divots. The boy had been clawing at himself.
For how long?
she wondered.
Meanwhile, the mother warily watched Carla. In equal parts, the look said, “Please let him be okay,” “Don’t blame me,” and “How much is this going to cost?” Carla stepped away, removed her gloves and put them in the medical waste can. If the mother thought she was saving herself time by postponing the doctor’s appointment, she was in for a shock when she found out what was in store for her now: washing all the bedding in hot water; vacuuming all the carpets, upholstery, and furniture twice; putting all stuffed animals and pillows in garbage bags for two weeks washing all of Jamal’s clothing, coats, hats, backpacks; replacing all brushes; to say nothing of the hours she’d have to spend picking through his hair with a fine-toothed steel lice comb.
“At the start of the school year, we see a lot of lice. You should report his condition to his teachers so his classmates can be checked,” said Carla. “We have a fact sheet with instructions.”
“Okay,” said the mother, impatient or … what? Resentful. Blaming the messenger.
“The eggs or nits are tough to get rid of. But if you don’t, he’ll suffer a reinfestation. Also, Jamal’s scalp is infected from scratching and he’ll need a prescription antibiotic.”
“How much is that?” asked the woman.
Carla said, “That depends on your plan.” Judging the look on the woman’s face, she didn’t have health insurance. In New York, lower-income families qualified for the affordable state plan called Child Health Plus. The paperwork was a bit challenging. A lot of overworked parents didn’t have the time or wherewithal to sort through it.
Carla said to the mother, “I should take a look at your scalp, too.”
“Me? I’m fine.”
The woman had an elaborate woven hairdo that would have to be unraveled. It probably costs quite a bit at the beauty shop. More than the antibiotics her son needed.
“The exam shouldn’t take more than a minute,” said Carla, giving it another try.
“I said I’m fine.”
Carla sighed, and made eye contact with Tina. She had her witness that Ms.—she checked Jamal’s chart—Ms. Williams refused an examination. But it wasn’t enough anymore. She’d have to get it in writing, or Ms. Williams could make a load of trouble later on if she accused Carla of negligence.
“I’m going to have to ask you to sign a piece of paper that states you refused to be examined, all right?”
Ms. Williams rolled her eyes and said, “I’m not signing anything.”
Carla, way behind schedule, was not going to argue. “Tina, please give Ms. Williams the fact sheet and instructions. You’ll notice that we recommend buying a fine, steel lice comb. The best one is from Germany and costs sixty dollars. It’s expensive, but it really works.”
“I’ll get the lice shampoo for ten bucks at the drug store.”
“That won’t kill the nits.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“You’ll be right back here in two weeks.”
Ms. Williams groaned and asked, “What do you suggest that won’t cost me hundreds of dollars?”
Steady
, thought Carla.
She doesn’t really resent me
, she reminded herself.
It’s a tough situation. Empathy. Show empathy
. Carla said, “I know you must feel put out and upset. Getting rid of lice is a job and a half. I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news.”
“Yeah,” said Ms. Williams, scooting Jamal off the exam table. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Good luck,” said Carla, quickly writing a prescription for antibiotics and forcing it on Ms. Williams before she exited
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