The Raft

Worst Doctor Ever
You may know that I worship my ObGyn. Dr. Neville Graham, Hartford ObGyn Group. He, in my opinion, is the founding father of all things obstetric and gynecologic. The man knows what he's doing. And, he surrounds himself by almost-equally fabulous doctors and staff. Both of my pregnancies were flawless - and I never felt anything but safe and comfortable.
That said, I am now done with making, growing and delivering babies, so I found myself with a sinus infection and no one to prescribe my antibiotic. I was forced to find a General Practicioner. Jay likes his, so I signed up. The practice is run by the Dad and his daughter and her husband are also doctors.
The first time I went, it was for bloodwork leading towards a full physical. The bloodwork was a 7am appointment so I didn't take much time to look around. Plus, it was a technician, a simple blood draw, nothing to really observe or critique.
So, when I went in a week later for my physical, I was on full alert - taking it all in, trying to get a feel.
My first indicator was that I was about 10 minutes late. And when I approached the window, the fat woman behind it said I would have to reschedule, they could not fit me in. I apologized, explained that my sitter ran late and I had missed the turn into the parking lot and had to fight traffic turning around to try it again - all true. She stared at me like I was speaking another language. But she let me in.
The doctor I met, we'll call her "Dr. Deb", since that's her name, was a very large but soft spoken woman. The first thing I noticed was that she was wearing dyke-sandals and she had thick, yellowish toe nails. Ew. But, whatever.
She gave me a very thorough physical, everything from eyes, ears and "anything bothering you". Yes, something was bothering me, in fact. I had some pretty serious pain in my right side. It seemed to coincide with my period and was excruciating some days. She did some pressing and poking and sent me for an ultrasound. She also told me to see my Ob. No problem, I had an appointment in 3 weeks for my annual. "No, go now." Okay, way to freak me out.
I went for the ultrasound, expecting the worst to only see a puzzled expression on the technician's face when she said there is absolutely nothing to speak of. {And that was almost disappointing considering how very unlpleasant an internal ultrasound is, especially when there is no little jumping bean to get excited about.}
Anyway - this wasn't supposed to be so long, so, long story a little less long: no one found anything wrong with me. My Ob put me on the Pill (not Dr. G, the Nurse Prac from the office, whom I hate and I should have pushed back cuz the pain is still there so it clearly wasn't an "ovulation issue", but that's neither here nor there, at least not in this post). Back to "Dr. Deb"...
I went in yesterday, to have 2 lesions removed. Just ugly little scar-bumps that bugged me that she assured me she could get rid of. They didn't present any danger, they were just ugly, so I agreed. As I was looking around this "Family Practice" I did begin to notice a trend of marketing, though. A LOT of marketing for Laser Hair Removal, Laser Scar Removal. Honestly, more uneccesary, cosmetic marketing than in my Dermotoligist's office. I am not kidding. (UConn Health Center in West Hartford - Great Office).
So, I go in yesterday, with the kids. First obstacle: 2 kids, 1 stroller, 2 flights of stairs to the waiting room. There is a "Lift", and to use it allI had to do was unlock the door and press the "Call button". Unfortunately, there was no key to unlock this door (do all handicapped clients just get a key when they sign up?) and the only button I saw was large and red, indicating some sort of alarm may sound if not an atomic explosion. So, I hauled Wyatt up the stairs in his little umbrella stroller and Abby climbed. No big whoop.
Then I get there and there is a load of toys. Ew. Does anyone else realize that the toys in the doctor's office have got to be the dirtiest, germiest, most horrifying things a mother can lay eyes on? Luckily, the very socially-challenged office women called me in almost immediately.
Once I was in the office with Dr. Deb... she asked me how I was and I said I was annoyed that I had to climb stairs with a stroller. She had no explanation. Then i mentioned a billing issue that her office staff has been giving me the run-around about. She said "I really don't know anything about billing." Then I said there was something about my right ear that concerned me, sometimes I can't hear and I get dizzy and I think it might be clogged. She said she would have to schedule me in another room to check it and she wasn't sure what time that would be. I said forget it. Then she said "so, what are we doing today?" Really? Is this a hair salon? "A little off the wrist and lower leg, lady, thanks."
Then, she shot Novicaine into my wrist and leg and pulled out her little napkin full of rusty tools and began carving into my body while my 2 year old stared on in horror. Seriously. She took care of my weirdo-scar-bumps with a rusty scalpel.
Did I assume that was how it was going ot happen? In this world of lasers? No. Would I have brought my ever-inquisitive almost-3 year old daughter in to watch? No.
So - when we were just about done, Abby had to pee, Wyatt was crying form exhaustion and boredom and Dr. Deb offers to schedule me to take the stitch out (my leg needed a stitch - is another cut, witha stictch, really going to eliminate my original problem?!) she says "come back in a week. Or - you can just snip it yourself."
Really? I can remove the stitch myself? Why didn't I just suck down a bottle of whiskey and slice the fucking scar off with a straight edge? I really could have done this whole horrifying thing myself, wouldn't ya say, DEB!?
Anyway - I got the fuck out of there and I do not plan on ever going back. Ever. I will just say I have pain in my vagina, get an appointment at HOGG and then let them know I just need some Amoxocillin.

Children's Medicines
So, Abby is sick. No biggie. She has a runny nose, stuffy head, sore throat, fever... she cries a lot, wants to be held and needs a lot more sleep than she wants to have. It is sweet and sad and adorable.
Wyatt was due for his 1-Year check up so I brought Abby, too, and had Dr. Ram check her out.
**I am not a doctor's nightmare - I called first and made sure it was ok.** He prescribed her a decongestant and something to help suppress her cough so she could sleep better at night. Perfect. We've all been there. 2-year olds can't suck down Nyquil and Sudafed, they need a doctor's care. I don't ever think I will be the kind of parent who ever ignores a runny nose. Really. You just never know, it's worth the $20 co-pay to me.
My point?
Pop a kid full of medicine and even the sickest kid instantly thinks she's superwoman. "I'm all betta, mama!" No, baby, you need to go to sleep.

Worst Wife Ever
Yesterday was my 7th Wedding Anniversary. Jay and I have been "together" for almost 11 years, married 7. Cute, huh? I am the worst wife ever.
Jay brought me roses and a lovely card.
I forgot a card and fell asleep with Abby at 7pm. And slept through the night. He moved her out of our bed and climbed in next to me and I didn't budge.
How gross am I??

Aetna Girls
Just want to send a "shout out" to the Aetna Girls that are reading this right now. With Jay leaving the company, it has sent us down Memory Lane a lot lately. He certainly has his own path but some of my favorite memories involve Monica and Sue; Daisy; That girl who worked with you girls in the Call Center who's name I forget but she was totally bitchy and fun; Kim Mazzolla-Johnston-Egan (whom I still love so much as one of my very bestest)... I have to stop there because if I list more names and forget a bunch, that's mean.

Sucker for a Rooster I will close this ridiculously long post (fucking Dr. Deb, that was way too long) with a declaration of my love for all things rooster related. We are shopping for an area rug for the kids' section othe newly-designed basement. Plain, colorful, soft and large. And cheap. I don't want to spend a fortune on something that will ultimately eat play-doh, apple juice and puke.
And what to my wandering eyes should appear? Many large, round, rooster rugs.
We'll see what happens with this one.