Areas of expertise

“You know the best thing about Fortnight?”

“Hmmm. ... What’s the best thing?” I asked, hoping my measured tone with its gentle lift at the question mark would be enough to fake rapt attention.

“I’d have to say it’s getting two skins on your birthday.”

I turn on my directional and squint into the rearview mirror. He continues on, listing all the things a person can do inside the computer game if they are skilled with a keyboard or a controller.

I add a sound here and there that might allow him to believe I am paying just as much attention to him as I am to the unexpected rush of mid-day traffic.

Even under the best of circumstances, I’d be in no position to comprehend any of the words he strings together. And these circumstances, though purely routine, were not ideal. We were driving into Albany for the boy’s medical appointment. A biannual follow-up for a benign renal condition that preexisted his birth.

Naturally, I was anxious about what the tests would find, but we still had one highway exit and six miles to go, and Mr. B.M.W. had no intention of letting me merge.

But merge I shall ... 

He honks.

The bird is all his.

“High Five, mom. ... you can just pretend though. I know you’re driving.”

He asks me how long until we’re there. It occurs to me that the stream of play-by-play descriptions may be his own coping mechanism for stress.

“You remember how this works right? 

“They rub jelly on me and tickle my sides with a scanner, then they make me pee in a cup.

“What are they looking for again?”

“The insides of your kidneys are a little stretched out, and they are checking to see if it’s gotten more stretched out.”

What does a kidney do, actually?

“Kidneys filter out waste from the body. The liquid gets filtered through the kidneys, goes through the ureters into the bladder and then out of the body through the urethra.

“You can stop now ... don’t say the word ....”

“Urinate?”

“Oh my god, mom!”

I know he’s not as squeamish as he makes himself out to be. Once we’re alone in an exam room, he asks about the medical terms for some of the conditions he saw in the waiting room. 

He makes me define “tracheotomy” and “stoma.” 

He wonders if these are kidney related.

Probably not. Lots of people have different medical conditions that overlap, especially if they are lucky enough to live a long time. 

Eventually, organs are scanned, urine collected, and an assessment made complete with a thumbs up.

A young man studying to be a doctor gets to tell us the good news in excruciatingly accurate detail.

After which the intern offers my boy a sticker.  He smiles and politely declines.

“I’m a little old for stickers,” he explains, telling the student doc he’s put away childish things in pursuit of glory in Fortnight.

“I play that, too. How many solo wins do you have?”

“Hey now, I’m not that good.”

They leave it with a slightly awkward high-five.

As we exit the building, my boy takes my hand as we cross the street to our car.

“I’m sure those doctors are good, but they need to work on their kid skills. If I wanted to know how my kidney worked, I’d ask my health teacher.”