I missed the president’s speech tonight because I was at back to school night (and then I had to watch America’s Next Top Model), but I’m curious if he addressed any of the planks in my health care reform platform. Because the problems are just getting worse.
I got a phone message from a friend today who evidently passed my house four times today going back and forth to get a doctor to fill out school medical forms, and don’t even get me started on those, because GAH. Also, shit. Sorry I forgot to call you back, M. I’m not saying we don’t need any Stimey reform.
What I’m here to complain about today is my second attempt to take Quinn to the doctor for the same damn thing that I’ve been trying to take him in for for THREE WEEKS. See, he’s been having shin pain for a while now and there was one afternoon when we were on vacation that he was screaming and crying. (That also could have been due to his being strapped into his carseat for several hours, but he was really upset about his legs too.)
Shin pain is probably growing pains and not a big deal. But there is a small possibility that it could be something bad. And when I called to make an appointment in the third week of August and just said “shin pain” (not to be confused with “chin pain,” which I erroneously Googled), I kind of expected to be laughed off for calling for a sick appointment.
Instead, I was put on hold for ten minutes and then the receptionist came back and told me that she was going to have to schedule me in a week and a half because shin pain requires a half hour appointment, but call back right away if it gets worse or he develops a fever. Based on that, I kinda think it’s worth going in.
So last week I went in for my 8 a.m. appointment. Since we only have one car, everyone had to pile in at 7:30 in the morning and drop Quinn and I off for his appointment. Then they drove to school drop off and then Alex came back to pick up Quinn and I. This completely disrupted my entire family. Alex was late to work, Jack had a rough day because he was really tired from being woken up early, and Quinn was unnecessarily traumatized by thinking he had to go to the doctor.
Of course, he didn’t see the doctor, because the receptionist had booked us into the practice’s other location. The receptionist I saw that morning was semi-apologetic and semi-it-just-might-be-your-fault. Then she scheduled me for mid-morning today, which happens to have been Quinn’s second day of school.
No, I take that back. It was his classmates’ second day of school. Quinn missed it. But it was okay, because we were going to see the doctor.
When we got there, the receptionist (a different one) asked me if I was there to pick something up. When I told her we had a 10:30 appointment, she looked at her computer, then typed, then looked at the computer again, then typed a little more, then said, “Oh, we called to reschedule that appointment.”
And I was all, “No. You didn’t.”
Because they didn’t. See, that’s the thing about rescheduling an appointment. You have to actually speak to the person you are rescheduling the appointment for. Or at the very least, leave a message. We got none of that.
Aside: Today Jack’s OT office called to cancel his appointment. They called and left messages on both my home and cell phones. And they asked me to call back to confirm. THAT is how you reschedule a motherfucking appointment.
In retrospect, what I should have done was sit down and refuse to leave until I saw a doctor, but I wussed out and accepted an 8:15 appointment for tomorrow morning. Stimey family, prepare to be disrupted! (Also, they called four hours later to confirm my appointment—my 8 a.m. appointment. Ack.)
There was, however, one silver lining. Quinn was absolutely delighted.