I am not a fan of my newest doctor. Not one bit. I am sure he is a great person and doctor; many people don't need good bedside manner from their doctors and he is perfect for those people. Not an un-medicated anxiety ridden/OCD/Bi-polar Princess like myself.
Today I received a series of calls regarding the soon-to-be newest addition to the Ray Family. However, we are not going to start there. Let me take you back a couple of days, Wednesday afternoon to be exact.
My "quick" OB check was schedule for 2:40pm. I showed up five minutes early and checked in... sat down and patiently waited for my appointment. About 30 minutes later I realized the people who were in the waiting room with me had now changed. Fifteen minutes after that I noticed that some of the women who arrived with or shortly after me were now leaving from their appointments. Finally my name was called. The nurse quickly took my vitals, I peed in the proverbial cup and was escorted to the exam room to wait once again. I waited and waited then waited some more. One hour and 3 parenting magazines later the Doctor made his appearance. He then explained the tests I would be doing in the lab downstairs immediately following my appointment with him. He explained it in so much detail that even if this was my first child it would have been over-kill. After talking at me for 10 minutes he checked the babies heart beat, said "sounds good". Then looked over my chart and said, "Well, you really need to be monitored for the untreated bi-polar disorder, so you are going to need to see someone about that." Ummm... hello Doctor?! (Apparently he misunderstood the purpose of the visit.) I had already decided to pick a new doctor so I wasn't going to mention anything. The next 10 minutes included him typing, v..e..r..y s..l..o..w..l..y on his teeny tiny lap top. Then he just abruptly got up and left, as I was contemplating whether or not I was done, the nurse entered the room with prescriptions and instructions to head down to the lab to get some blood drawn.
I go down to the lab, and am instructed to take a seat. Ugh. This wait this time was much shorter and the visit was too, no unnecessary lectures on statistics... it was just in, poke and out. Just the way I like it! lol.
I walked out of the facility at 4:50pm. 2 HOURS and 10 MINUTES after my scheduled appointment time. That's not even the best part... during all of my tedious waiting my poor husband was in a panic. You see my cell phone died at 3:00 (which exponentially increased my boredom by the way). BUT an hour into my 15 minute check-up he started to get worried. So he called the doctor's office to check on me. The kind receptionist informed him they checked me out at 3:20. I hadn't even seen the doctor and they told my husband I had left!!!
Being fully aware of just how "special" I am while pregnant he went into panic mode, thinking the worst possible scenarios: perhaps I received bad news and wasn't thinking clearly... or I was distracted and got into a horrible car accident, whatever it was something had happened to me because I don't just disappear. And he was stuck at home helpless. Thankfully that was not the case; I was just incredibly annoyed, but safe nonetheless. But because he was unaware of this he called everyone we knew to see if they had heard from me, or knew my whereabouts -- no one did. Then he called our cell phone carrier and had a tracker set up for my phone in the off chance it could locate me regardless of a dead battery -- it could not. So he went upstairs to flag down someone driving by our house in order to get our suburban jump started so he could go looking for me. Just then I pulled in... it was obvious he had been pacing. I watched his pale face (which if you know my husband, is saying ALOT.lol) quickly fill with color and his expression soften then turn to confusion as tried (quite unsuccessfully) to calmly question me about my appointment and any problems that arose. When I said, "Other than the wait everything was fine." He took a deep breath and realizing I was "normal" today expressed his last hour of sheer panic and stress. Poor guy, it really made me want to call and scream at the receptionist for putting my husband through hell, but I realized it wouldn't help and just decided to fold laundry and cry a little.
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