The Bucket.

There is one bucket in our house reserved for when a little person has a stomach ailment of the vomit variety. That bucket has never been more popular. Ick. It was used 21 times before 2pm yesterday. Double Ick. So, yesterday afternoon we took that little bucket with us to our local doctor’s office. GigantoBaby hadn’t peed in 24 hours, that’s a long time. Dehydrated? Definitely. Needs IV fluids? Maybe. So, in we went. Here’s my disclaimer on our doctor…I don’t love him. That’s right, I’m the worst mother in the world, the kind that is too lazy to change her children’s doctor, simply because it will cause too much of a kerfluffle. We’ve had him forever, well, since ResponsiBoy came home. He’s a Family Practice MD, but the kind that is best at practicing on families where the youngest member is 80. He should be in geriatrics. End disclaimer.

Here’s my disclaimer on myself, as a medical provider… I’m non-compliant. That’s the word we use for people who don’t listen to the advice that their medical provider gives. Not good. I use my better judgement a lot. And, a lot of times I feel like my better judgement is better than our doctor’s. Bad. I would NEVER do that to a patient. Undermine the authority of someone who might know more? NEVER. But, for myself, and sometimes, my kids. Well, I totally undermine. I know my kids, but still, not good. So, don’t follow my lead. Do what your medical provider tells you. End disclaimer.

When we got to local MD’s office yesterday, we were told he’s not there. WHAT? We waited all day to see him. I emptied the aforementioned bucket 21 times waiting to see local MD. He doesn’t birth babies, so pray tell, why is he not here? Oh, he never was here. GigantoBaby was always on local Nurse Practitioner’s (NP) schedule. Great. She’s also wonderful with the little ones (sarcasm). So, we’re told to wait. In the waiting room. With our bucket. What? I’m not holding that bucket in front of every local senior citizen. And, do you want me to? Don’t you have a little isolation waiting room? What if we had Swine Flu? I know we don’t, but what if? Would you sit us in the regular waiting room so that all of the Denny’s Early Bird Specialers can get the Swine Flu as well? For real? Local medical receptionist points to a tiny little two seater table by the pharmacy. Wait there? Thanks. I have four kids with me. So, we huddle around the tiny little table, with no toys. GigantoBaby pukes, Divalish screams, Middle-Middle whines and all the elderly just stare. I wave, because that’s the kind of person I am. Love it or shove it. I’m already at the brink.

We see local NP. She’s just what I remembered. We’re asked the same questions over and over. As a provider, that really irritates me. We have computerized charting. Use the computer. We don’t smoke. No I don’t know his family history. See his intake form? And his skin color? He’s adopted. But, I’ll say it again. Then, we’re told to get a throat culture. What? No fever. No other symptom besides vomiting. I’ll go with it. While we’re at it, we’re asked to get labs too. It could be his appendix. Again, no fever, but we need electrolytes anyway, so we’ll go. When we get to the lab, local lab provider is wonderful (again, sarcasm). He’s the “let’s hold him down and jab him” kind of phlebotomist. No, I don’t roll like that. Tell him what you’re going to do and I’ll make sure he sits still. None of my kids are the freak out and bite you type. But, they don’t take well to right off the bat going in with physical restraint. Let’s exhaust all other possibilities. So, I hold him on my lap. He pokes. GigantoBaby straightens his legs and they brush local Lab Tech. “Oh, don’t kick me! Don’t kick me! I have to be still too. If you kick me we’ll have to do this all again!”. Um, he didn’t kick you, but I’m about to.

Wait for lab results, in our teeny tiny exam room where there is the cover to a two year old copy of Ranger Rick. Just the cover, nothing else. ResponsiBoy looks at it and inquires about why they don’t bring some books in here. If my 6-year-old gets it, why don’t they? Lab results come back. No appendicitis. No Strep Throat. Surprised? Not really. He probably needs IV fluids. Yeah, I agree. We can’t do that here. You’ll have to go to local ER. Commence flipping out. WHAT? Well, it’s too late to go to Urgent Care, because we’ve wasted all of your time here, in this teeny exam room, while you perused the cover of Ranger Rick.
So, because he hasn’t peed, please head to local ER.

Do you want to know what I did? Nothing. I took GigantoBaby home. It was 6 pm when we pulled into the driveway. We were at that office for two hours. For nothing. I took the Pedialyte and fed it too him with a teaspoon, knowing that if he vomited again or if the clock rolled to 8pm, we would have to go to the ER. He didn’t vomit, and at 7:15pm, he peed. HALLELUJAH! I’ve never thanked God for pee before. But, I did. And even though it will cause a kerfluffle, we’ll be choosing an actual pediatrician come Monday.


3 thoughts on “The Bucket.

  1. Are you sure you don’t want to move to Utah? We have a fabulous pediatrician who has a special fondness for adopted children.That is all totally unacceptable. My jaw is still on the floor. And just to make you feel better, I am not a medical professional but I was raised by one, and I am non-compliant too. So is he, so is my Mom, so is my sister the nurse. Sometimes Mommy’s intuition knows more than the guy with the certificate. That is why we are blessed with discernment. And sometimes you just have to take your baby home, love on him, tell him he will be okay, then pray that it is true. Sometimes you make a way-beyond-the-speed-limit run to the children’s hospital in the middle of the night while doing those same things. But every Mom I know can tell he difference and act accordingly.I hope all of you are well today and remain so.

  2. What a delightful afternoon (sarcasm)! Praying for you as you find a new doc-ask around, mom’s know and will tell you. Take care! God bless! Jen

  3. Ug. I’m sorry your doc is such an old poop. We love our kids’ practice – so much that I now drive 40 minutes rather than find one closer to the house we moved to five years ago. I never have to wait more than 30 minutes, and I get an appointment every time, same day if needed. You could always drive down here…heh

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