Since she was three years old, Frances has had an intense interest in all things medical 🏥. It shows up everywhere, especially at 11 years old.
The other day during March break, Frances announced, as she typically does (literally) in passing, what was on her mind:
“Mum, if someone were saying, ‘I can’t feel my face when I’m with you’ to me, I would say, ‘Stroke! You’re having a STROKE!’” 😂
Yes, one of the benefits of having a child who focusses so intensely on her subjects of interest is that you are fortunate enough to suddenly find yourself in the most entertaining (as well as enlightening) of conversations.
Recently, I was discussing with someone an event that had occurred while I was hospitalised last autumn and described the cautiousness that my care team had demonstrated regarding some cardiovascular and cardiopulmonary symptoms. Frances couldn’t help herself, she interrupted because she just had to know:
Did they give you TPA?
Did you hear, “Code Blue” over the loudspeaker?
Did anyone say, “Everyone to the resuscitation bay!”
She speaks now of becoming a surgeon which, I’ve told her, would probably allow her to continue her equestrian ambitions.
So, last night, Frances came into my room with a piece of Scotch tape and a washable marker, then proceeded to get my fingerprint.
She said, “Thanks for the sample” as she left. Very mysterious.
There are times when I just don’t press the issue. Take, for example, the time that the cat was a pretty shade of purple and nobody seemed to know why and, certainly, nobody confessed. The cat didn’t mind, so I eventually left the matter alone. But, I still wonder: who…? Why?
I wonder if I’ll ever know why she wanted my fingerprint… 🤔
One fascinating aspect of 10-year-old Frances’s personality is that she remembers facts so well and that she shares them kind of…randomly.
For example, the following recent conversation was brief but interesting:
Frances: The atomic number of copper is 29.
Me: Okay, thanks.
There was no preceding conversation. We just happened to be passing each other in the hallway, and we both went our own way afterwards.
Part of me knows that I’ll have to help her understand that she can’t start conversations like that with, for example, someone walking past her at school; another part of me does find it adorable.
Pink Cup Dad and I always joke that Frances doesn’t need ways to increase mobility: she is constantly active. So, it is funny but not surprising that she frequently uses Lego (and its like) of all sizes to facilitate movement.
The nexus of Frances’s interest in evolution/human history and her intense sense of logic. (She is seven years old in this panel.)
“If you went back in time, would anyone else notice?”