Walmart in China....a garage door entry to an underground store.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
In Guangzhou Now
We are on the last leg of our trip. We arrived in Guangzhou on Friday afternoon. Here we will complete Hope's immigration into the U.S.
Yesterday was Hope's medical exam. We learned quickly that she has a fear of doctors. She beamed a happy little cherub while in the waiting room. Once we entered the first (of 3) examining rooms and she glanced up at the white-coated medical staff, she hurled her protests. Tears combined with an antsy feet dance and continuous attempts to dart back to the waiting room, signaled she had some unwelcome memories about those white coats. While the staff weighed and measured our disgruntled peanut, her protests continued until I swooped her into my arms and exited that room.
Her dismay returned with vengence when we entered the second examining room. This time it was the real deal--a DOCTOR! As I held her plumb, but petite (yeah, figure that one out!), frame on my lap, the doctor began her questions in Chinese combined with I think was suppose to be broken English. I just gazed at the medical expert with a blank stare as my sweet angel wrestled for freedom with all the strength she could muster. Her pleas with words I did not recognized but still understood begged me to rescue her from what she certainly claimed a frightful fate.
Finally, our guide appeared at the cloth-covered entry and clued me in on my babe's distress. Her bellows were pleading, "No shot! No Shot!" So I'm guessing the multitude of immunizations she had lumped into her 4th year of life has left an intense aversion to doctors who insist on cloaking themselves in white coats and medical masks. I admit their site is a bit intimidating even without a needle protruding from their hand. The doctor then signaled me to place my hysterical child on the examining table, and she proceeded to remove her clothes for a "complete" exam. She coldly flipped my precious babe over and yanked her pants down. With bare bottom exposed, Hope's fears morphed in magnitude as her eyes pleaded with me to be her rescuer. As much as I wanted to shove that masked medical provider away from my angel, I knew that certain hoops could not be avoided. She must endure yet another icy exam so that certain boxes could be checked off.
Hope survived the second examining room and found the third room a bit less traumatic. She sat on my lap while another white-coated, personality-deficient character sqeaked a toy on each side of her head to see if she responded to the noise. Then a peak into her eyes and her mouth. Once excused from the ENT room, Hope wiggled from my arms and grabbed her coat, desparately trying to put it on properly and escape that scary building. My heart sank. I knew the worst was yet to come--the wiggle-a--needle-under-the-skin TB test. UGH!
I'm sure she thought we were on our way out the door. No, sweet babe. One more room to go. I hugged her close on my lap while the technician pushed her sleeve up to expose her bare skin. Mighty screams again bounced through the medical facility as my little peanut brandished the only weapon currently accessible to her--her voice.
Medical exam finalized, we whisked our princess out of her nightmare and into the fresh air of Guangzhou's Shamain Island. Her perky, playful self immediately returned, but my mamabear instincts to knock some compassion into those medical providers still remains.
I know you all are eagerly awaiting more pictures. Once hubby wakes and gives me the camera, I'll download them to the blog.
Yesterday was Hope's medical exam. We learned quickly that she has a fear of doctors. She beamed a happy little cherub while in the waiting room. Once we entered the first (of 3) examining rooms and she glanced up at the white-coated medical staff, she hurled her protests. Tears combined with an antsy feet dance and continuous attempts to dart back to the waiting room, signaled she had some unwelcome memories about those white coats. While the staff weighed and measured our disgruntled peanut, her protests continued until I swooped her into my arms and exited that room.
Her dismay returned with vengence when we entered the second examining room. This time it was the real deal--a DOCTOR! As I held her plumb, but petite (yeah, figure that one out!), frame on my lap, the doctor began her questions in Chinese combined with I think was suppose to be broken English. I just gazed at the medical expert with a blank stare as my sweet angel wrestled for freedom with all the strength she could muster. Her pleas with words I did not recognized but still understood begged me to rescue her from what she certainly claimed a frightful fate.
Finally, our guide appeared at the cloth-covered entry and clued me in on my babe's distress. Her bellows were pleading, "No shot! No Shot!" So I'm guessing the multitude of immunizations she had lumped into her 4th year of life has left an intense aversion to doctors who insist on cloaking themselves in white coats and medical masks. I admit their site is a bit intimidating even without a needle protruding from their hand. The doctor then signaled me to place my hysterical child on the examining table, and she proceeded to remove her clothes for a "complete" exam. She coldly flipped my precious babe over and yanked her pants down. With bare bottom exposed, Hope's fears morphed in magnitude as her eyes pleaded with me to be her rescuer. As much as I wanted to shove that masked medical provider away from my angel, I knew that certain hoops could not be avoided. She must endure yet another icy exam so that certain boxes could be checked off.
Hope survived the second examining room and found the third room a bit less traumatic. She sat on my lap while another white-coated, personality-deficient character sqeaked a toy on each side of her head to see if she responded to the noise. Then a peak into her eyes and her mouth. Once excused from the ENT room, Hope wiggled from my arms and grabbed her coat, desparately trying to put it on properly and escape that scary building. My heart sank. I knew the worst was yet to come--the wiggle-a--needle-under-the-skin TB test. UGH!
I'm sure she thought we were on our way out the door. No, sweet babe. One more room to go. I hugged her close on my lap while the technician pushed her sleeve up to expose her bare skin. Mighty screams again bounced through the medical facility as my little peanut brandished the only weapon currently accessible to her--her voice.
Medical exam finalized, we whisked our princess out of her nightmare and into the fresh air of Guangzhou's Shamain Island. Her perky, playful self immediately returned, but my mamabear instincts to knock some compassion into those medical providers still remains.
I know you all are eagerly awaiting more pictures. Once hubby wakes and gives me the camera, I'll download them to the blog.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
A Day in the Park
We visited the Monkey Park and got a glimpse of the local people. It was amazing and was "the China" I had hoped to see this trip.
Jet Lag
Here's what jet lag looks like...
This is what NOT jet lagged looks like...
Yesterday was our jet lagged day. We were all dragging. I finally collapsed in the afternoon with Hope and Joy. Sarah followed shortly. They boys all went to dinner while we slept. Once they returned, the girls went to dinner, and the guys crashed. Well, all but Dad. But eventually, even he met the mattress.
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