Please make note of my boo-boos. I have two more on the other leg. I will wake up 6 times throughout the night after this picture is taken. Pity my mother.
When I walked into NikkiZ’s doctor’s office yesterday, the waiting room was FULL. This was only our second visit to the new doctor, but I know it’s a small practice so a full waiting room was very odd. The more I sat there, I realized this was all one family. One woman in her 40s, her sister, her mother, and her three kids. The three kids were all girls and ranged from about 8 to about 16. It didn’t take me long to realize the oldest child was the one there to see the doctor. This was one of the conversations that clued me in:
Mother: Why can’t they give us the prescription here to take to get filled for you?
16-year-old: Because my P.O. has to approve it first.
It took me a few minutes to decide what P.O. meant. I knew I had heard it before but I couldn’t remember where. Then it clicked: The nine million procedural dramas I watch. P.O. means Parole Officer.
Surely that nice looking teenager doesn’t have a Parole Officer I thought to myself. What else could P.O. mean in that situation?
It was then that I noticed, Oh. Handcuffs.
This nice looking teenager had handcuffs and ankle shackles on to go with her VERY baggy khaki pants and orange sweatshirt I hadn’t paid any attention to before. You could tell she was doing her best not to draw attention to her retraints. It was a very surreal moment when I realized there was this young girl handcuffed and shackled waiting to see the same doctor I was waiting to take my daughter to see. Especially when I heard the nurse explain to the doctor later, “Poor thing, she’s incarcerated so you have to examine her with her restraints on.”
(I promise I’m not nosey, the office is TINY.)
I have no idea what the girl did, but my curiosity was killing me. I also have no idea why whatever detention center she obviously came from didn’t send a guard of some sort with the restraints. It seems if she was enough of a flight-risk to be cuffed and shackled, she would need a guardian of some sort too. It was all very odd. Do juvenile detention centers release kids to medical facilities, but only if they’re restrained? But they don’t bother sending any sort of chaperone besides the family? It was all VERY weird.
Either way, the girl seemed very nice and it wasn’t like I was worried for our safety or anything. It was just NOT something I expected. To run into a teenage prisoner of some type in the lobby of my daughter’s pediatrian’s office.
Now, at my P.O.’s office? I see them all the time…