the world's slowest doctor


In order to use the "alternative birth center", I have to have a lot of waivers and sign offs from doctors. I imagine the amount of paperwork is similar to that required by contestants on Fear Factor. And I can't tell you how many things say "the birth experience includes inherent dangers, up to and including death". One of the papers I had to get signed was from a pediatrician. The pediatrician needs to have hospital privileges, so that cut down on my selection. I finally found someone who would see me, my appointment was yesterday.

The doctor's offices were within the hospital complex. Parking was a NIGHTMARE. I forgot to bring any cash (which turned out to be a good reminder to put an envelope of cash in the hospital bag in case we don't have any when I'm in labor). I ended up having to park blocks and blocks away and then I had to walk in the street as there are no sidewalks. These things just don't happen in Detroit. Parking is always free and right next to where you're going. We don't walk anywhere, which is why we're fat. Well, not you and me, but you know what I mean. I figured that, if I was hit by a car, at least I was near the hospital.

I had already decided that I was never going back to this doctor. I never want to deal with the parking situation again. So I figured I would just grin and bear it through the "interview", get him to sign my form, and we would both go on with our lives never to meet again. Once I was in the office (and let me say how lovely it was to pass by a scale and not have to get on it), I handed him my form, which I had already filled out. There's a whole bunch of "routine" stuff I don't want done at birth, and one non--routine thing that I do want done (a hearing test). I don't want the baby to be vaccinated against Hepatitis B at birth. We will end up getting all of the vaccinations, but on a delayed schedule (5 years instead of 2). Leo's cousin is severely autistic, his mom blames vaccines. Since the jury is still out on the whole debate, we've decided to proceed cautiously, but proceed none the less. Anyhow, I doubt that Owen will develop an IV drug habit in his first year, so I doubt he could even contract Hep B.

There's other stuff on there too, stuff I was prepared to be challenged on. Instead, the doctor grabbed the form out of my hand and signed it without ever reading it. It might have said that I want them to remove the baby's left arm and he'd never know it. So I'm glad there was no heated debate on the subject, but shouldn't he at least have read it? I figured he'd go over the pros and cons of each choice (which I feel I already know, but still).

After that, he asked me about my medical history. Am I taking any drugs? No. Do I have a history of disease? No. Am I pregnant? ... I stared at him. He stare at me. Somewhere in the distance a car alarm went off. Time passed. Finally, I admitted to being pregnant. To be fair, he didn't acted shocked. He also didn't realize what a stupid question it was, considering that we have been discussing the baby I'm about to have. There are blind people in Micronesia that can tell I'm pregnant. You'd think a doctor would be able to.

So I'm glad I hated just about everything surrounding that visit. Because if I'd loved the doctor, I might be tempted to attempt parking at the hospital again.

We just now went out to lunch and picked out granite countertops for our new kitchen. Leo has been working on the kitchen for almost a week now, and its nearly done. I can't even express how great it looks. And I also can't express how much I am looking forward to having a sink and a dishwasher once again.

<< - >>

0 comments so far

New Old Profile Host Guestbook