cat named pig

We just got home from the pediatrician, where it was one fiasco after another. I thought things were starting out pretty well when we arrived five whole minutes early. (This is a personal best when it comes to these appointments; for some reason I always estimate the time needed to get there in Single Adult Time and never in Mom With Two Kids Time. The car seats alone add at least five minutes to the trip.) Our early arrival turned out to be a good necessary thing, since it took 15 minutes to figure out our insurance situation. 

[Here comes a short rant - feel free to roll your eyes and skip this part, which is exactly how I predict Matt will handle it]

When I left my job six weeks ago (actually when I resigned, which happened ten weeks ago) I made I list of things we needed to take care of as part of the transition. Health insurance was at the top of that list, since the kids and I were all covered by my plan and it was the beginning of cold and flu season. So I mentioned to Matt that he would need to add us to his plan ASAP, and then I continued to mention that on a daily basis for the first couple weeks after I was done with work (”mention” of course being code for nag, hassle, harass, and generally FREAK OUT about, if you ask my husband, who was “taking care of it.”) 

He reminded me several times that we had until the end of November to submit the paperwork, and I countered each time with a reminder that our kids were guaranteed to get sick before the end of November, so it would probably make everything a whole lot easier if we just got it updated right away. Let me just say now that I take absolutely no pleasure in being right about this. 

I would give up rightness in a heartbeat, if it meant I could have back that $350 I had to put on a credit card today because, OF COURSE, the kids had not been added to the new insurance policy yet, which meant that we weren’t in the database (even though she tried to find us for a full ten minutes) and we had to pay for the whole visit and will now go through a reimbursement process that everyone at the clinic assures me is “really annoying” and “takes forever.” 

[The ranting as it pertains to our insurance situation is now over, for the most part] 

So we go in to see the doctor and I explain how they have both had a cough, Siena for almost two weeks and Elliot for about one week (I’m feeling pretty good about having the timeframes at the ready like that) and I just want to get Elliot’s ears checked because he’s been rubbing them for about a day now.

Turns out he does have a slight infection in one ear, but then she listens to them both cough and mentions that walking pneumonia is going around and did I want to have Siena checked at all too? I feel like a horrible mother, rushing the new baby in at the slightest sign of ear-rubbing while the older child is walking around with pneumonia for two weeks. But seriously - it’s November. In Minnesota. Everyone has a cough right now, and probably will until spring. Right? Right? 

Then the doctor (not our usual one) asks about Siena’s history with ear infections, and I explain that she actually holds a world record for having had more ear infections in three short years than anyone. Ever. We have a trophy at home and everything. 

The doctor’s next logical question is whether Siena’s ears have been hurting since this cold started. I say no, which is what Siena has told me, but a quick look in the ears reveals not only that they are both infected, but rather dramatically so.

“That looks like it must hurt,” says the doctor.

“I swear, I pay attention to both kids equally - I asked her if her ears were hurting, I really did!” I don’t actually say this; instead I mumble something about good thing I brought her in too and I just didn’t know . . . she seemed like she was getting better, etc. The doctor all but rolls her eyes, and then asks if I want to forego the pneumonia test since we are paying for this visit out of pocket.

I am grateful for this suggestion, but also wary. Is this some sort of test? Will it be noted in my bad mother file that I opted not to test my child for pneumonia, the same child whose ear infections I neglected and the only reason they were discovered at all was because she happened to come along on her brother’s check-up? I assure the doctor that we will pay for whatever she recommends because I care about both my kids, a lot. 

We end up getting dual prescriptions for Zithromax and a prize for Siena after having her finger poked (when I had promised her that if anyone got a poke today it would be Elliot, not her. “Bad Mama. You are not my friend and I am not going to the doctor with you anymore.”)

I feel horrible about everything so I suggest ice cream. The doctor turns me down, and goes to update my bad mother file with another note, this one about attempted bribery. (Kidding.) (I hope.) At least Siena is pleased with my suggestion about stopping at Dairy Queen on the way home.

On the way out, we pick up our medicine, which they have right there in the office, Lord be praised. The receptionist says something about hoping we get our insurance figured out, and I manage to sound like a total jerk when I reply that we “know what needs to be done; we just didn’t submit the forms as soon as we should have.” My irritation is not actually directed at her; it just sounds that way, but she doesn’t know this. She gives me a frosty smile and goes to put her own note in my file: “Is jerk. Do not give preferred appointment times. Also has no insurance but will stand there for 10 minutes and let you try to look it up anyway.”

If they gave letter grades for office visits? F minus.