Cause I need more things to take up my time.
Someone on an online forum I frequent posted a link to NaBloPoMo. Basically it's a challenge for people who write on blogs to post at least once a day during the month of November. I signed up. I'm interested to see how far I make it. My guess is that I make it to All Souls Day before quitting.
You can join groups on NaBloPoMo. I joined three. The first is a group of tattooed blog people. I have two tattoos and am working out the details of my future third. The second is a for Christian parents. The third is for people who use their blogs for group therapy. Since I bitch and moan on here, I figured that counts.
So yeah, NaBloPoMo. We'll see if it works.
31 October 2007
Poor Choice 101
Since I'm going to hell for posting this anyway, I have to say I'm disappointed in myself for not managing to capture him scratching his butt with his flag.
If karma exists, and I kind of think it does, I will now inevitably do something horribly embarrassing, like fart in front of my students.
ee cummings and stalking the people across the street
I've been thinking a lot about this ee cummings poem lately, mostly because I've been lonely. I'm lonely pretty much all the time, but I'm not lonely in the sitting around feeling sorry for myself sort of way. It's more of an I wish things were different sort of way, or an I wish I was different type of loneliness.
Today's bout was kicked off at work, when I heard a few people talking about going to eat lunch together, since we had a half day. Nobody stopped by my room to see if I wanted to go to lunch. I worked solidly through lunchtime, then ate during the faculty meeting. I admit I felt pretty sorry for myself this afternoon, but I'm kind of over it now. I'm more just wondering what exactly is so toxic about my personality that I can't seem to make or retain friends. I'm not wondering this in a feeling sorry for myself sort of way; I'm wondering it in a more objective way. It's like I'm trying to look at myself from an outsider's point of view and picking apart my personality once again. I'm also trying not to be overly sensitive, because I do have that tendency. But I spent a good chunk of the afternoon wondering what it was about me that made it so that no one wanted to eat lunch with me. No one. I feel like I make lots of efforts to be funny or friendly or listen to others, in an attempt to get to know other people. I know I'm socially awkward to the point where it's often painful to be in a conversation, but I do try; I really do try. I'm dorky to the point that it's almost unbelievable, and I never know what to say, so I usually end up saying something so incredibly dumb that I beat myself up for days (years) over it. I'm also HORRIBLE about keeping in touch, but again, I do try. I really do try. This afternoon, all I wanted to do was quit my job, go back to school, and hang out with people with other people who are going to school who'd be just as dorky as I am, because why else would they be going to school to get a PhD in history or archaeology?
A few weeks ago I hatched a brilliant plan. I decided that Husband and I should walk around the neighborhood, on Halloween, with Baby dressed up in his penguin costume. I figured this way we'd meet people in the neighborhood, and an adorable baby is always a good conversation starter. I thought there'd be lots of people pushing their not quite as adorable babies around, and we could have a few awkward moments of making small talk and staring at the ground before moving on. The doors would then be open for the next time we bumped into each other, this time with our babies sans costumes.
My brilliant plan failed. Husband and I walked around the neighborhood for 30 minutes. The only people we passed were people walking their dogs. We also saw a hayride full of smiling people wearing costumes and a few children. They waved at us and smiled and continued their Halloween adventure.
Then a car drove by. The driver turned his head and looked at us as he slowed to the stop sign. I noticed a baby seat in the back.
"Husband!" I yelled.
"What? Stop yelling!" he replied.
"That car has a baby seat in the back."
"Um, okay."
"A BABYSEAT," I reiterated.
"Yeah, okay, it's probably the people across the street who have a baby," he said patronizingly.
"Yeah, but he looked at us. You know, he was checking us out." I tried to emphasize how great this was to Husband. "Do you think it would be too much to just sprint down the street with the stroller and try to catch up with him?"
"Um, yeah, that would be pathetic."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." My heart felt sad.
When we got home, Husband told me I should go introduce myself. He told me that this is the one night a year that it's socially acceptable to randomly ring a stranger's doorbell. I said there's no way in hell I was going to ring a stranger's doorbell, and besides, we've got no proof that they have a baby. He pointed out the evidence: the "IT'S A GIRL" sign in the front yard, the baby seat in the car, the streams of people who have been showing up with gifts over the last month or two, and the stroller on the front porch. I wasn't convinced, and as a side note, we don't spend our time peering out the front windows spying on our neighbors. We've just noticed these things over the last month or two. I finally agreed to go across the street on two conditions. The first condition was that Husband had to come with me. The second condition was that he do all of the initial talking. Husband chickened out.
I'm not being too hard on myself. My suspicion is that most people go through this at some point or another, and most people often have bouts of extreme self doubt. I just have to keep telling myself that meeting people takes time, and the people I become friends with might not be people I work with, and that's okay. It just gets hard sometimes in the day to day, when I only really see Husband, my mother, and Baby. Sometimes I'd just like to hang out with someone else my age or someone else with a baby or someone else that's someone else. I think it would be good for me.
Today's bout was kicked off at work, when I heard a few people talking about going to eat lunch together, since we had a half day. Nobody stopped by my room to see if I wanted to go to lunch. I worked solidly through lunchtime, then ate during the faculty meeting. I admit I felt pretty sorry for myself this afternoon, but I'm kind of over it now. I'm more just wondering what exactly is so toxic about my personality that I can't seem to make or retain friends. I'm not wondering this in a feeling sorry for myself sort of way; I'm wondering it in a more objective way. It's like I'm trying to look at myself from an outsider's point of view and picking apart my personality once again. I'm also trying not to be overly sensitive, because I do have that tendency. But I spent a good chunk of the afternoon wondering what it was about me that made it so that no one wanted to eat lunch with me. No one. I feel like I make lots of efforts to be funny or friendly or listen to others, in an attempt to get to know other people. I know I'm socially awkward to the point where it's often painful to be in a conversation, but I do try; I really do try. I'm dorky to the point that it's almost unbelievable, and I never know what to say, so I usually end up saying something so incredibly dumb that I beat myself up for days (years) over it. I'm also HORRIBLE about keeping in touch, but again, I do try. I really do try. This afternoon, all I wanted to do was quit my job, go back to school, and hang out with people with other people who are going to school who'd be just as dorky as I am, because why else would they be going to school to get a PhD in history or archaeology?
A few weeks ago I hatched a brilliant plan. I decided that Husband and I should walk around the neighborhood, on Halloween, with Baby dressed up in his penguin costume. I figured this way we'd meet people in the neighborhood, and an adorable baby is always a good conversation starter. I thought there'd be lots of people pushing their not quite as adorable babies around, and we could have a few awkward moments of making small talk and staring at the ground before moving on. The doors would then be open for the next time we bumped into each other, this time with our babies sans costumes.
My brilliant plan failed. Husband and I walked around the neighborhood for 30 minutes. The only people we passed were people walking their dogs. We also saw a hayride full of smiling people wearing costumes and a few children. They waved at us and smiled and continued their Halloween adventure.
Then a car drove by. The driver turned his head and looked at us as he slowed to the stop sign. I noticed a baby seat in the back.
"Husband!" I yelled.
"What? Stop yelling!" he replied.
"That car has a baby seat in the back."
"Um, okay."
"A BABYSEAT," I reiterated.
"Yeah, okay, it's probably the people across the street who have a baby," he said patronizingly.
"Yeah, but he looked at us. You know, he was checking us out." I tried to emphasize how great this was to Husband. "Do you think it would be too much to just sprint down the street with the stroller and try to catch up with him?"
"Um, yeah, that would be pathetic."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." My heart felt sad.
When we got home, Husband told me I should go introduce myself. He told me that this is the one night a year that it's socially acceptable to randomly ring a stranger's doorbell. I said there's no way in hell I was going to ring a stranger's doorbell, and besides, we've got no proof that they have a baby. He pointed out the evidence: the "IT'S A GIRL" sign in the front yard, the baby seat in the car, the streams of people who have been showing up with gifts over the last month or two, and the stroller on the front porch. I wasn't convinced, and as a side note, we don't spend our time peering out the front windows spying on our neighbors. We've just noticed these things over the last month or two. I finally agreed to go across the street on two conditions. The first condition was that Husband had to come with me. The second condition was that he do all of the initial talking. Husband chickened out.
I'm not being too hard on myself. My suspicion is that most people go through this at some point or another, and most people often have bouts of extreme self doubt. I just have to keep telling myself that meeting people takes time, and the people I become friends with might not be people I work with, and that's okay. It just gets hard sometimes in the day to day, when I only really see Husband, my mother, and Baby. Sometimes I'd just like to hang out with someone else my age or someone else with a baby or someone else that's someone else. I think it would be good for me.
Baby's First Halloween
That was today. We sent him to daycare in a skeleton outfit his Aunt Meredith bought him. Apparently he shit through his pants as soon as he got there, so when I picked him up, I picked up hip, khaki cargo pants baby who was wearing a skeleton long sleeved t-shirt.
Here's a before picture. He was in his toy, so the full effect isn't possible.
When we got home tonight, we took him for a walk around the neighborhood. He wore his penguin costume.
After we got home, we played on the floor. He got progressively angrier and decided to he was going to be ONLY WANTS TO BE HELD BY MAMA Baby.
We got almost no trick-or-treaters, so Husband and I must get busy eating the bowls of leftover candy.
Here's a before picture. He was in his toy, so the full effect isn't possible.
When we got home tonight, we took him for a walk around the neighborhood. He wore his penguin costume.
After we got home, we played on the floor. He got progressively angrier and decided to he was going to be ONLY WANTS TO BE HELD BY MAMA Baby.
We got almost no trick-or-treaters, so Husband and I must get busy eating the bowls of leftover candy.
29 October 2007
My Shit for Brains
I burned my hand again last night. Same hand, once again, burned while cooking. This time it was melted butter splattering. It hurts like a mofo and looks like Gorbachev's birthmark.
23 October 2007
Incompetence?
Somebody out there might be wondering why I was in CVS at 11:45 yesterday morning holding Baby and singing Simple Minds' Don't You Forget About Me. Allow me to explain.
I've mentioned on here once or twice about how Husband, Baby, and I have been taking Baby to the offices of Drs. Shit for Brains, Asshole, and Fuck-Up Pediatrics, Inc. I've also mentioned that they've done almost nothing to improve my child's health-namely the congestion he's had since August. Baby woke up yesterday morning with his left eye crusted shut. He could not open it. His other eye had greenish yellow goo oozing out of it. Now, when something appears to be wrong with Baby, I immediately think something is wrong-something awful, and have to talk myself down. Yesterday I looked at Baby, looked at his eyes, remembered that he'd been up every 90 minutes the last two nights and decided I was taking him to the pediatrician. I called work over and over and over until someone picked up. I emailed spotty lesson plans and requested a specific substitute. I attacked Baby's eyes with a wet washcloth, and my cheerful, happy child could open his left eye about halfway. I loaded him into the car and headed for our semi-weekly visit with the pediatrician.
The pediatrician's office was swarming with sick children-at least 30, plus parents, plus siblings. I signed in at 8:55. At 8:25 the receptionist called me to collect my copay. All around me parents had struck up in depth conversations with the no-longer stranger next to them, engaging in pissing contests of who's waited longer. Because I'm freakishly shy, I didn't join them, but I did eavesdrop. I waited two hours last time, whispered one parent. I really wanted to see Dr. Asshole, but I got Dr. Shit for Brains instead. And that was just last week. Now we're back here again. It was like that parent was describing my life.
I got called to the exam room at 9:55. At 10, Dr. Asshole walked into the room, booming hello, what seems to be the problem so loudly that Baby startled. I started to explain the greenish yellow goo oozing from my baby's eyes, his congestion that he'd had since August, and the strange new cry he'd made the night before, but Dr. A cut me off.
"How old is he?" he asked.
"Seven months," I replied.
"Seven months. Okay."
"Now, how old is he?"
"Um, seven months."
Dr. A started poking around Baby. As soon as he touched Baby's neck, Baby started screaming like I've never heard. "He's got an ear infection. Has he been tugging at his left ear?" Dr. A asked.
"Um, he just finished ear infection medicine."
"He's got an ear infection. Has he been tugging at his left ear? That's why he's been irritable."
"Uh..."
"Now, the eyes," Dr. A continued. "He has an infected tear duct. The congestion from his nose has backed up and clogged his tear ducts, and now they are infected."
I was angry. So many swears were fighting my super-ego for permission to come out. I didn't say: The congestion he's had since August? The congestion that you and the other doctor's kept blowing off? Is that the congestion you're talking about?
Instead, I said, "Okay."
"We're going to give him some antibiotics," Dr. A said.
"That's fine," I said, "But I'd prefer that he not have penicillin."
"And why is that?" Dr. A asked irritably. I explained my reasons, endured Dr. A's condescending looks and had a mind numbing conversation about what antibiotic Baby would be getting.
"What did he have last time?" Dr. A asked. "I don't have his chart in front of me."
"I don't remember the name. It started with a c. C-F-D something." Dr. A said the name of a drug that was decidedly not what Baby had been given.
"No, that's not it," I informed him.
"Yes it is," he responded.
"Do you want his medical records? I have them in my bag." Dr. A ignored me, wrote the script, said he'd like to see Baby back in a week, and headed out the door. The time was 10:05.
When I got home, I called Anthem to switch Baby's provider. Since I'd already been to the pediatrician's this month (4 times, now), we have to wait until November before Baby can see a new doctor. How fucked up is that?
I am now certain that my child has not received adequate medical care. I understand that babies get congestion, as do adults, but they've blown off our concerns about his congestion for two months now. Look at where it's gotten us: me missing a day from work, him on antibiotics for the 4th time, at least.
I'm too tired right now to list all the things that were wrong with this most recent visit. Husband and I are pissed-and this practice came highly recommended from several coworkers of mine. I just can't believe these people are fine with the care they provide. It's appalling what we've been through in three months.
I've mentioned on here once or twice about how Husband, Baby, and I have been taking Baby to the offices of Drs. Shit for Brains, Asshole, and Fuck-Up Pediatrics, Inc. I've also mentioned that they've done almost nothing to improve my child's health-namely the congestion he's had since August. Baby woke up yesterday morning with his left eye crusted shut. He could not open it. His other eye had greenish yellow goo oozing out of it. Now, when something appears to be wrong with Baby, I immediately think something is wrong-something awful, and have to talk myself down. Yesterday I looked at Baby, looked at his eyes, remembered that he'd been up every 90 minutes the last two nights and decided I was taking him to the pediatrician. I called work over and over and over until someone picked up. I emailed spotty lesson plans and requested a specific substitute. I attacked Baby's eyes with a wet washcloth, and my cheerful, happy child could open his left eye about halfway. I loaded him into the car and headed for our semi-weekly visit with the pediatrician.
The pediatrician's office was swarming with sick children-at least 30, plus parents, plus siblings. I signed in at 8:55. At 8:25 the receptionist called me to collect my copay. All around me parents had struck up in depth conversations with the no-longer stranger next to them, engaging in pissing contests of who's waited longer. Because I'm freakishly shy, I didn't join them, but I did eavesdrop. I waited two hours last time, whispered one parent. I really wanted to see Dr. Asshole, but I got Dr. Shit for Brains instead. And that was just last week. Now we're back here again. It was like that parent was describing my life.
I got called to the exam room at 9:55. At 10, Dr. Asshole walked into the room, booming hello, what seems to be the problem so loudly that Baby startled. I started to explain the greenish yellow goo oozing from my baby's eyes, his congestion that he'd had since August, and the strange new cry he'd made the night before, but Dr. A cut me off.
"How old is he?" he asked.
"Seven months," I replied.
"Seven months. Okay."
"Now, how old is he?"
"Um, seven months."
Dr. A started poking around Baby. As soon as he touched Baby's neck, Baby started screaming like I've never heard. "He's got an ear infection. Has he been tugging at his left ear?" Dr. A asked.
"Um, he just finished ear infection medicine."
"He's got an ear infection. Has he been tugging at his left ear? That's why he's been irritable."
"Uh..."
"Now, the eyes," Dr. A continued. "He has an infected tear duct. The congestion from his nose has backed up and clogged his tear ducts, and now they are infected."
I was angry. So many swears were fighting my super-ego for permission to come out. I didn't say: The congestion he's had since August? The congestion that you and the other doctor's kept blowing off? Is that the congestion you're talking about?
Instead, I said, "Okay."
"We're going to give him some antibiotics," Dr. A said.
"That's fine," I said, "But I'd prefer that he not have penicillin."
"And why is that?" Dr. A asked irritably. I explained my reasons, endured Dr. A's condescending looks and had a mind numbing conversation about what antibiotic Baby would be getting.
"What did he have last time?" Dr. A asked. "I don't have his chart in front of me."
"I don't remember the name. It started with a c. C-F-D something." Dr. A said the name of a drug that was decidedly not what Baby had been given.
"No, that's not it," I informed him.
"Yes it is," he responded.
"Do you want his medical records? I have them in my bag." Dr. A ignored me, wrote the script, said he'd like to see Baby back in a week, and headed out the door. The time was 10:05.
When I got home, I called Anthem to switch Baby's provider. Since I'd already been to the pediatrician's this month (4 times, now), we have to wait until November before Baby can see a new doctor. How fucked up is that?
I am now certain that my child has not received adequate medical care. I understand that babies get congestion, as do adults, but they've blown off our concerns about his congestion for two months now. Look at where it's gotten us: me missing a day from work, him on antibiotics for the 4th time, at least.
I'm too tired right now to list all the things that were wrong with this most recent visit. Husband and I are pissed-and this practice came highly recommended from several coworkers of mine. I just can't believe these people are fine with the care they provide. It's appalling what we've been through in three months.
21 October 2007
Big Bird and Boobs
Someone linked to this video-it was on here, if anyone cares. I know it's supposed to be a beautiful thing and all, but honestly, I'm a little creeped out. Husband was too. When I found the YouTube link, he said, very sternly, "Don't watch it again. Just link to it." I don't remember this being on Sesame Street in the 80s when I was watching. Here's the thing. I do this several times a day. I've explained to my nieces that Baby has to eat from my boobs. Pretty much all of my friends and family have now seen my cha chas (sorry, everyone!). I've done it in the car and in restaurants and on four different airplanes. But conversing about it with Big Bird? That's beyond what I am humanly capable of.
17 October 2007
Um....
The sink got clogged, so my mother tried to unclog it. When Drano didn't work, she stuck a kebab skewer down it. She poked a hole in the pipe. The hole necessitated a trip to Lowe's, so she took the pipe apart so she'd know what to get. She went to Lowe's and got a piece of pipe. She and Husband tried to attach the piece of pipe. We now have a plumber coming tomorrow afternoon.
15 October 2007
Baby's Night Out
Hmmm...perhaps I'll wet my whistle
Oh yeah, that's the stuff
Dancing on the Table Baby
Gregarious Drunk Baby
Angry Drunk Baby
Them's fightin words*Scene Missing*
Drug Bust Baby*Scene Missing*
Nick Nolte Mug Shot Baby*Scene Missing*
Passed Out in a Jail Cell Babygiving credit where credit is due
12 October 2007
Dr. Shit for Brains
We had a wonderful pediatrician before we moved. Unfortunately, we moved when Baby was about three months old, so we had to leave a practice where we felt comfortable and find someone new to care for our child. I called Anthem soon after we moved, and they directed me to a doctor who seemed to be running an inner city clinic for children without health insurance. Since Husband and I didn't feel comfortable driving through the Bronx to get to the pediatrician's office, we decided we'd find a different practice. We may have been better sticking with the do-gooder in the ghetto.
Exhibit A: We called the new practice to set up Baby's four month well visit. We requested a specific doctor, and the receptionist said, "Well, we can either get you in with Doctor Shit for Brains tomorrow, or in three weeks." Baby needed his shots, so we said tomorrow. We drove an hour to pick up his medical records from the old pediatrician's office, had an episode in which Baby shit through his outfit, and listened to him scream for most of both legs of the journey. It was great. When we got to the doctor's office the next afternoon, we didn't actually see the doctor; we saw the nurse practitioner. I've nothing against nurse practitioners; however, I'm not one who enjoys surprises. Husband and I rearranged our schedule in order to be able to see Doctor SFB, and I expected that we'd see Dr. SFB. Nurse practitioner was very brisk with Baby, writing a prescription for Pepcid almost before the words "spit up" were out of my mouth. She advocated letting him cry himself to sleep and discouraged me from trying to pump at work or give Baby solids. I was uneasy, but I decided I was just being a little over-sensitive.
Exhibit B: This is a semi-neutral experience. Baby started shaking-convulsing when I fed him his bottle. Because of my family history of epilepsy, I was a little concerned (freaking out), and Husband called the pediatrician. They told us to come right in, so we did. After waiting an hour, we saw a different nurse practitioner. She was very good with Baby, asked us lots of questions, and helped get us in for an EEG the next day. She called twice and had Dr. SFB call us, even though he'd never met us before. My concerns from the previous visit were slightly relieved.
Exhibit C: A week or so after the EEG incident, Baby started coughing. He sounded like a smoker and was cranky; he's usually a very happy baby. Husband called the pediatrician's office, and the nurse who spoke with him blew him off, saying something along the lines of "babies cough." Then she continued, "sometimes mucus from the birth gets stuck in their lungs and takes awhile to come out." She didn't even let Husband say that Baby was five months old at that point and was delivered via C-section.
Exhibit D: Baby's cough got worse. And worse. And his temperature went up. Since it was a Friday night, we called the after hours line, and the recording said their office opened at 9 a.m. for sick visits. By 8:40, we were waiting in the parking lot. We thought it odd that people kept walking in with sick children, but we knew what the recording said, and waited in the car. Around 8:40 we thought maybe they unlock the doors early, so we went in. The receptionist said that while patients are not guaranteed to see a doctor until 9, they can come in as early as 8. It would have been nice to know that, seeing as how we were supposed to be somewhere else that morning. After waiting an hour with a happy but green-snotted baby, we saw a doctor. She was very nice, seemed surprised that Baby was not yet eating solids, took her time, and answered our questions. He had a sinus infection, so she wrote him a prescription and sent us on our way. Our visit with her made us reconsider switching practices.
Exhibit E: Baby threw up at daycare. He hadn't really seemed like himself that morning, and I worried, but we took him to daycare anyway. Husband emailed me at work to see if he could drop Baby off, since he hadn't done his work for class that afternoon. I made arrangements for my students and rushed over to the pediatrician's office. After waiting only 30 minutes this time, I actually saw Dr. SFB. Dr. SFB was being shadowed by a medical student that day. I explained the vomiting to Dr. SFB, and I also expressed my concerns about my child's apparent smoking habit. Dr. SFB seemed unconcerned about Baby's vomiting, took one look in the diaper and told me Baby had a yeast infection and thrush. The yeast infection had come from the antibiotics he'd been given for his sinus infection. He wrote me a prescription for some yeast killers and tried to escape the room. "But what about his formula?" I asked. "Daycare wanted me to ask about his formula."
"Oh, it's fine," Dr. SFB said, sprinting for the door.
"Okay, well is he throwing up because of the combination of formula and breastmilk? Cause my friend's baby had trouble with both."
"No, that's fine." His hand was on the doorknob and sweat beads were forming since he'd been with a patient for more than five minutes. "Wait, you're still putting him to the breast?" he asked.
"Yup," I replied proudly and expected to be hailed for my commitment to my child's well being, even if it was by doing something I hate and feel uncomfortable about.
"Okay, well, then you've got it too," he said, quickly told me to see my doctor and headed out the door.
Exhibit F: Baby's six month well checkup. This appointment, although made in July, was rescheduled twice. We'd decided we were pretty much done with this practice, but we wanted to keep the appointment and get Baby his shots. When Baby and I arrived I requested a medical records release form. I had to write my reason for requesting the records, so I wrote "We are likely leaving the practice, but are unsure." I was ushered into a room after a 30 minute wait, and the nurse said, "I'm sorry, this is part of my job, but I have to ask why you are thinking of leaving us." I explained that we felt like our concerns hadn't been acknowledged, we'd felt like we'd been blown off, etc. She listened, and apologized, and said she understood. She told me Dr. SFB would be with me shortly, and after about 20 minutes, he was. He introduced himself, and asked if there was anything I especially wanted him to check out. I mentioned the rash on Baby's back and also asked him for tips on getting my child to stop smoking. He promptly looked in Baby's ears and said, "Oh, he's got an ear infection." I'm not sure how I didn't blurt out "You're completely shitting me, right?" He finished checking over Baby-it took all of 30 seconds, told me to get him dressed, and said he'd let me know when we could talk in his office. 20 minutes later his nurse led me into the office. I waited for five minutes with an increasingly fussy baby. He asked me several questions, and then spent the rest of the visit asking me to explain why we were likely leaving the practice. I explained what had happened up until that point, and said that it just seemed like maybe the practice was a little over-extended. He aptly said, "Well, if you feel like your concerns aren't being met..." I explained how Husband got completely blown off by the nurse he'd spoken to, and Dr. SFB said, "Oh, but he did actually talk to someone?" Yes, because since he actually spoke with someone, everything is hunky-dory. "Well, if there's anything I can do," Dr. SFB repeated over and over again, as he practically hoisted me and Baby out the door. "Oh, and he can't get his shots today, cause of his ears. So you'll have to come back in a couple weeks, and we'll check his ears and give him his shots then." I asked if I needed an appointment, and Dr. SFB said, "No, it's just a walk-in thing." I said, "Well, what about the rash on his back?"
"Oh, that's fine. Babies get rashes," Dr. SFB replied. "Oh, wait," he continued. "I didn't actually look at it." He pulled down Baby's onesie, glanced at the rash, and reaffirmed that it was fine.
Exhibit G: Husband took Baby in to the pediatrician's office to get his ears checked and his shots. The lab technician blew him off, was rude, and muttered under her breath "Thinks he can just walk in here. 4:30 on a Friday afternoon." Husband explained that Dr. SFB told us that we just needed to walk in, but she'd hear nothing of it.
So yeah, we're pissed. Pissed to the point of not only switching practices, but of somehow formally complaining. I went ahead and made an appointment with a new pediatrician at a different practice, so Baby can re-have his six-month check up. While it's likely that everything is fine, I'm not at all comfortable with the level of care he's received. I'm willing to shell out the $25 copay just for some peace of mind. Husband said he hasn't ever received customer service this poor, not even at McDonald's. I hope the new doctor works out, and if Dr. SFB is out there, I say a resounding Fuck you and your crappy ass medical care. I know my child isn't important to the random stranger, but it's your fucking job to treat him as though he is.
Exhibit A: We called the new practice to set up Baby's four month well visit. We requested a specific doctor, and the receptionist said, "Well, we can either get you in with Doctor Shit for Brains tomorrow, or in three weeks." Baby needed his shots, so we said tomorrow. We drove an hour to pick up his medical records from the old pediatrician's office, had an episode in which Baby shit through his outfit, and listened to him scream for most of both legs of the journey. It was great. When we got to the doctor's office the next afternoon, we didn't actually see the doctor; we saw the nurse practitioner. I've nothing against nurse practitioners; however, I'm not one who enjoys surprises. Husband and I rearranged our schedule in order to be able to see Doctor SFB, and I expected that we'd see Dr. SFB. Nurse practitioner was very brisk with Baby, writing a prescription for Pepcid almost before the words "spit up" were out of my mouth. She advocated letting him cry himself to sleep and discouraged me from trying to pump at work or give Baby solids. I was uneasy, but I decided I was just being a little over-sensitive.
Exhibit B: This is a semi-neutral experience. Baby started shaking-convulsing when I fed him his bottle. Because of my family history of epilepsy, I was a little concerned (freaking out), and Husband called the pediatrician. They told us to come right in, so we did. After waiting an hour, we saw a different nurse practitioner. She was very good with Baby, asked us lots of questions, and helped get us in for an EEG the next day. She called twice and had Dr. SFB call us, even though he'd never met us before. My concerns from the previous visit were slightly relieved.
Exhibit C: A week or so after the EEG incident, Baby started coughing. He sounded like a smoker and was cranky; he's usually a very happy baby. Husband called the pediatrician's office, and the nurse who spoke with him blew him off, saying something along the lines of "babies cough." Then she continued, "sometimes mucus from the birth gets stuck in their lungs and takes awhile to come out." She didn't even let Husband say that Baby was five months old at that point and was delivered via C-section.
Exhibit D: Baby's cough got worse. And worse. And his temperature went up. Since it was a Friday night, we called the after hours line, and the recording said their office opened at 9 a.m. for sick visits. By 8:40, we were waiting in the parking lot. We thought it odd that people kept walking in with sick children, but we knew what the recording said, and waited in the car. Around 8:40 we thought maybe they unlock the doors early, so we went in. The receptionist said that while patients are not guaranteed to see a doctor until 9, they can come in as early as 8. It would have been nice to know that, seeing as how we were supposed to be somewhere else that morning. After waiting an hour with a happy but green-snotted baby, we saw a doctor. She was very nice, seemed surprised that Baby was not yet eating solids, took her time, and answered our questions. He had a sinus infection, so she wrote him a prescription and sent us on our way. Our visit with her made us reconsider switching practices.
Exhibit E: Baby threw up at daycare. He hadn't really seemed like himself that morning, and I worried, but we took him to daycare anyway. Husband emailed me at work to see if he could drop Baby off, since he hadn't done his work for class that afternoon. I made arrangements for my students and rushed over to the pediatrician's office. After waiting only 30 minutes this time, I actually saw Dr. SFB. Dr. SFB was being shadowed by a medical student that day. I explained the vomiting to Dr. SFB, and I also expressed my concerns about my child's apparent smoking habit. Dr. SFB seemed unconcerned about Baby's vomiting, took one look in the diaper and told me Baby had a yeast infection and thrush. The yeast infection had come from the antibiotics he'd been given for his sinus infection. He wrote me a prescription for some yeast killers and tried to escape the room. "But what about his formula?" I asked. "Daycare wanted me to ask about his formula."
"Oh, it's fine," Dr. SFB said, sprinting for the door.
"Okay, well is he throwing up because of the combination of formula and breastmilk? Cause my friend's baby had trouble with both."
"No, that's fine." His hand was on the doorknob and sweat beads were forming since he'd been with a patient for more than five minutes. "Wait, you're still putting him to the breast?" he asked.
"Yup," I replied proudly and expected to be hailed for my commitment to my child's well being, even if it was by doing something I hate and feel uncomfortable about.
"Okay, well, then you've got it too," he said, quickly told me to see my doctor and headed out the door.
Exhibit F: Baby's six month well checkup. This appointment, although made in July, was rescheduled twice. We'd decided we were pretty much done with this practice, but we wanted to keep the appointment and get Baby his shots. When Baby and I arrived I requested a medical records release form. I had to write my reason for requesting the records, so I wrote "We are likely leaving the practice, but are unsure." I was ushered into a room after a 30 minute wait, and the nurse said, "I'm sorry, this is part of my job, but I have to ask why you are thinking of leaving us." I explained that we felt like our concerns hadn't been acknowledged, we'd felt like we'd been blown off, etc. She listened, and apologized, and said she understood. She told me Dr. SFB would be with me shortly, and after about 20 minutes, he was. He introduced himself, and asked if there was anything I especially wanted him to check out. I mentioned the rash on Baby's back and also asked him for tips on getting my child to stop smoking. He promptly looked in Baby's ears and said, "Oh, he's got an ear infection." I'm not sure how I didn't blurt out "You're completely shitting me, right?" He finished checking over Baby-it took all of 30 seconds, told me to get him dressed, and said he'd let me know when we could talk in his office. 20 minutes later his nurse led me into the office. I waited for five minutes with an increasingly fussy baby. He asked me several questions, and then spent the rest of the visit asking me to explain why we were likely leaving the practice. I explained what had happened up until that point, and said that it just seemed like maybe the practice was a little over-extended. He aptly said, "Well, if you feel like your concerns aren't being met..." I explained how Husband got completely blown off by the nurse he'd spoken to, and Dr. SFB said, "Oh, but he did actually talk to someone?" Yes, because since he actually spoke with someone, everything is hunky-dory. "Well, if there's anything I can do," Dr. SFB repeated over and over again, as he practically hoisted me and Baby out the door. "Oh, and he can't get his shots today, cause of his ears. So you'll have to come back in a couple weeks, and we'll check his ears and give him his shots then." I asked if I needed an appointment, and Dr. SFB said, "No, it's just a walk-in thing." I said, "Well, what about the rash on his back?"
"Oh, that's fine. Babies get rashes," Dr. SFB replied. "Oh, wait," he continued. "I didn't actually look at it." He pulled down Baby's onesie, glanced at the rash, and reaffirmed that it was fine.
Exhibit G: Husband took Baby in to the pediatrician's office to get his ears checked and his shots. The lab technician blew him off, was rude, and muttered under her breath "Thinks he can just walk in here. 4:30 on a Friday afternoon." Husband explained that Dr. SFB told us that we just needed to walk in, but she'd hear nothing of it.
So yeah, we're pissed. Pissed to the point of not only switching practices, but of somehow formally complaining. I went ahead and made an appointment with a new pediatrician at a different practice, so Baby can re-have his six-month check up. While it's likely that everything is fine, I'm not at all comfortable with the level of care he's received. I'm willing to shell out the $25 copay just for some peace of mind. Husband said he hasn't ever received customer service this poor, not even at McDonald's. I hope the new doctor works out, and if Dr. SFB is out there, I say a resounding Fuck you and your crappy ass medical care. I know my child isn't important to the random stranger, but it's your fucking job to treat him as though he is.
10 October 2007
Professional Development, or I just want to bang on the drum all day, part 2
I just returned from a one day conference, which was branded as "Professional Development," but really just gave me the opportunity to get some grading done and think about my job and life.
Four ideas, conversations, really, keep coming back to me.
The first is something my father said to me before I went to college: I think you should work really hard for the next four years in order to get into a good graduate school. Then I think you should work your butt off for another five in order to get a Ph.D. Then I think you should work your butt off for five more years and get tenured. Then you'll be set for life.
The second is an ad I saw in my college newspaper. All I remember of the ad is ARE YOU CALLED TO SERVE JESUS CHRIST AS A SCHOLAR? I wasn't Christian at the time, but I remember, even then, thinking that yes, I was in fact called to do that. It was a little strange, honestly.
The third is something Pastor Rod said in Bible study once when I was in college. I'm not sure what the discussion topic was that led him to say: The problem people have is that they keep getting off their horse and getting on another horse. If they could just stay on the horse they're supposed to be on, they'd be a lot happier.
The last is the conversation I had with my father when I was trying to decide if I should go to NYU or not. I'd gotten in to their individualized studies MA program, but I wasn't sure I should go. I didn't really know what I wanted to do. He said: There are lots of people competing for jobs right now, lots of people with lots of skills, and there aren't really a lot of jobs to be had. Maybe in two years the job front will be better for you. Translation: We don't want you back home, living in the basement, waiting tables for the next five years while you figure it out.
Then I made a chart.
I turned to the education section of my chart. While I didn't hate my job this week, at least not until today, and in fairness, I only worked yesterday, looking my chart seems to indicate that education is certainly not for me. I'm likely to stay in it, at least for now, because I need to be home with my baby when I can. He pulled up for the first time yesterday, and I wasn't there to see it. I was thrilled my his new trick and crushed that someone else, a virtual stranger, got to witness the first time. I don't know of a more family friendly job, except for maybe the job Jen has, and I don't have the skills to do a job like that.
I moved on to food. I recently learned that I can cook well, and I have enjoyed making meals and treats for Husband and my mother. The idea of getting up in the morning and working at a bakery seems really soothing to me right now. Really, though, I'm not a morning person, nor am I certain that I can cook and bake well enough to please people other than my relatives. I'm interested in culinary school, but I'm such a picky eater I don't know if that's practical.
I thought about law school next, mostly because it was something my dad "encouraged" me to pursue. I quickly vetoed that because, although it would lead to a helping position, I don't think I can commit to three years of studying something I don't love.
I also vetoed religion. It's strange that it's a veto now when I spent so many years studying it. I loved studying religion and theology, but in many ways it killed my spirit. Still, I really long for people around me who love to talk about God and the Bible and not just in the "how's God working in your life these days" way, but the meaty wrestling with the text and tradition and challenging our lives and choices sort of way. I've not had that in so many years, and I ache for it.
Next, I thought about psychology. I majored in psychology in college, but I think it's just because I had some really good teachers and kept taking classes with them. I find some aspects of psychology really boring, like the cognitive stuff, but the developmental areas were really interesting to me. I'm not sure it's a passion of mine, although I could do it and be good at it.
Finally, I came back to education. Education is such a struggle because it's my current profession, and Husband and I decided this would be it for me. We are deep into educational debt from one degree I don't use, and I don't want to perpetuate it. I know I am getting better as a teacher, but I wonder if there's not something out there I'd love. Teaching reading or history or English, maybe? Teaching in a public school? I think about this all the time. I told Husband today that I don't want a good day to be a day when I come home and tell him that I didn't hate my job that day.
After I mulled all of this for awhile, I made a list of my goals for my life. It's not in order, nor is it definitive.
1. Sent Baby to private school
2. Hike through Spain
3. Get out of credit card debt
4. Learn to sew
5. Drive cross country
6. Go to Vancouver
7. Learn to garden
8. Be a good mama
9. Model an active/healthy lifestyle for Baby
10. Continue learning
11. Financial security/stability
12. Be a good wife
13. Go to Antarctica
14. Go to Asia
15. Run a marathon by 30
16. Own a Vespa
I think I need to figure out how to mesh my career interests/goals with my life interests/goals. I think if working for the Church paid a living wage, I might not be having this struggle, or at least not to the extent that I'm having it. I think I'm asking myself good questions, but I'm not sure where I will find the answers.
Four ideas, conversations, really, keep coming back to me.
The first is something my father said to me before I went to college: I think you should work really hard for the next four years in order to get into a good graduate school. Then I think you should work your butt off for another five in order to get a Ph.D. Then I think you should work your butt off for five more years and get tenured. Then you'll be set for life.
The second is an ad I saw in my college newspaper. All I remember of the ad is ARE YOU CALLED TO SERVE JESUS CHRIST AS A SCHOLAR? I wasn't Christian at the time, but I remember, even then, thinking that yes, I was in fact called to do that. It was a little strange, honestly.
The third is something Pastor Rod said in Bible study once when I was in college. I'm not sure what the discussion topic was that led him to say: The problem people have is that they keep getting off their horse and getting on another horse. If they could just stay on the horse they're supposed to be on, they'd be a lot happier.
The last is the conversation I had with my father when I was trying to decide if I should go to NYU or not. I'd gotten in to their individualized studies MA program, but I wasn't sure I should go. I didn't really know what I wanted to do. He said: There are lots of people competing for jobs right now, lots of people with lots of skills, and there aren't really a lot of jobs to be had. Maybe in two years the job front will be better for you. Translation: We don't want you back home, living in the basement, waiting tables for the next five years while you figure it out.
Then I made a chart.
| Field | Jobs | Pros | Cons |
| Education | teacher reading teacher history teacher English teacher guidance counselor | schedule 3 months off (get to stay home with Micah!) people centered often rewarding | pressure often boring not intellectually stimulating lack of pay/financial support for continuing education/supplies will need more school to advance/be successful lack of confidence often frustrating parents |
| Anthropology/ archaeology | archaeologist college teacher museum person | very interesting travel intellectually stimulating | possibly not family friendly lots more school (i.e. more debt) schedule? |
| Food | baker pastry chef | good at it possibly family friendly instant gratification | maybe not talented, just adept hours could suck |
| law school | lawyer | concrete time table helping profession make more money | super expensive hard might be boring lack of confidence court |
| religion | ????? | interesting | can kill the spirit |
| psychology | college professor counselor | some interesting aspects, esp. development/religion and psychology | lots of boring parts, esp. cognitive need more school |
I turned to the education section of my chart. While I didn't hate my job this week, at least not until today, and in fairness, I only worked yesterday, looking my chart seems to indicate that education is certainly not for me. I'm likely to stay in it, at least for now, because I need to be home with my baby when I can. He pulled up for the first time yesterday, and I wasn't there to see it. I was thrilled my his new trick and crushed that someone else, a virtual stranger, got to witness the first time. I don't know of a more family friendly job, except for maybe the job Jen has, and I don't have the skills to do a job like that.
I moved on to food. I recently learned that I can cook well, and I have enjoyed making meals and treats for Husband and my mother. The idea of getting up in the morning and working at a bakery seems really soothing to me right now. Really, though, I'm not a morning person, nor am I certain that I can cook and bake well enough to please people other than my relatives. I'm interested in culinary school, but I'm such a picky eater I don't know if that's practical.
I thought about law school next, mostly because it was something my dad "encouraged" me to pursue. I quickly vetoed that because, although it would lead to a helping position, I don't think I can commit to three years of studying something I don't love.
I also vetoed religion. It's strange that it's a veto now when I spent so many years studying it. I loved studying religion and theology, but in many ways it killed my spirit. Still, I really long for people around me who love to talk about God and the Bible and not just in the "how's God working in your life these days" way, but the meaty wrestling with the text and tradition and challenging our lives and choices sort of way. I've not had that in so many years, and I ache for it.
Next, I thought about psychology. I majored in psychology in college, but I think it's just because I had some really good teachers and kept taking classes with them. I find some aspects of psychology really boring, like the cognitive stuff, but the developmental areas were really interesting to me. I'm not sure it's a passion of mine, although I could do it and be good at it.
Finally, I came back to education. Education is such a struggle because it's my current profession, and Husband and I decided this would be it for me. We are deep into educational debt from one degree I don't use, and I don't want to perpetuate it. I know I am getting better as a teacher, but I wonder if there's not something out there I'd love. Teaching reading or history or English, maybe? Teaching in a public school? I think about this all the time. I told Husband today that I don't want a good day to be a day when I come home and tell him that I didn't hate my job that day.
After I mulled all of this for awhile, I made a list of my goals for my life. It's not in order, nor is it definitive.
1. Sent Baby to private school
2. Hike through Spain
3. Get out of credit card debt
4. Learn to sew
5. Drive cross country
6. Go to Vancouver
7. Learn to garden
8. Be a good mama
9. Model an active/healthy lifestyle for Baby
10. Continue learning
11. Financial security/stability
12. Be a good wife
13. Go to Antarctica
14. Go to Asia
15. Run a marathon by 30
16. Own a Vespa
I think I need to figure out how to mesh my career interests/goals with my life interests/goals. I think if working for the Church paid a living wage, I might not be having this struggle, or at least not to the extent that I'm having it. I think I'm asking myself good questions, but I'm not sure where I will find the answers.
08 October 2007
Four by four by four
Jen tagged me with this...
4 jobs I've had
Haunted hayride attraction
waitress in an Irish hotel
crappy librarian
second grade teacher
4 movies I could watch over and over
Life as a House
Where the Heart Is (hanging my head in shame)
The Sound of Music
Roman Holiday (how Notting Hill should have ended)
4 TV shows I watch
The Office
30 Rock
Scrubs
Top Chef
4 places I've lived
Fairfax, VA (twice)
Richmond, VA (on and off for 16 years)
Bronx, NY (I'm not kidding)
Charlottesville, VA
4 favorite foods
polenta
ramen
breakfast (Husband says "breakfast is not a food!")
cheese enchiladas (especially from Rancho)
4 favorite colors
Yellow
Red
Pink
Black
4 places I'd love to be right now
New York City
Ireland
Italy
New York City
4 names I love but could/would not use for my children
Charlotte, Julia, Mobius (Husband's idea, the one I actually liked), Hannah (Husband vetoed, and we got a boy anyway)
If any of my friends-such as Caroline and Leighann, etc, wanted to start blogging, I'd tag them with this...
4 jobs I've had
Haunted hayride attraction
waitress in an Irish hotel
crappy librarian
second grade teacher
4 movies I could watch over and over
Life as a House
Where the Heart Is (hanging my head in shame)
The Sound of Music
Roman Holiday (how Notting Hill should have ended)
4 TV shows I watch
The Office
30 Rock
Scrubs
Top Chef
4 places I've lived
Fairfax, VA (twice)
Richmond, VA (on and off for 16 years)
Bronx, NY (I'm not kidding)
Charlottesville, VA
4 favorite foods
polenta
ramen
breakfast (Husband says "breakfast is not a food!")
cheese enchiladas (especially from Rancho)
4 favorite colors
Yellow
Red
Pink
Black
4 places I'd love to be right now
New York City
Ireland
Italy
New York City
4 names I love but could/would not use for my children
Charlotte, Julia, Mobius (Husband's idea, the one I actually liked), Hannah (Husband vetoed, and we got a boy anyway)
If any of my friends-such as Caroline and Leighann, etc, wanted to start blogging, I'd tag them with this...
02 October 2007
01 October 2007
Jesus Loves Me
I have to teach religion as part of my job. It's funny that I say I have to teach religion when I spent two years preparing to get a job in a religious field and time after that searching for a job teaching religion. But now, I do say that I have to teach religion as part of my job.
My students and I were having a discussion during religion one day recently. One student raised her hand and said, "Yeah, but why did Jesus die on the cross for us?" I gave the standard answer which is something along the lines of He wanted us to be happy and live with him forever in heaven, but we couldn't because of sin, so instead of us dying for our sins, Jesus died for us so we wouldn't have to and could still be with God forever. She looked confused and dissatisfied, as she probably should have been, so I continued, "Let me put it a different way. Pretend everyone else who ever lived was perfect. Never sinned. Never did anything wrong. And the only thing you've ever done wrong was kick your brother. Once. Jesus still would have died for you. He loves you that much that even if nobody else had ever sinned, he would still want to be with you so badly that he'd go through all that pain, just for you. That's how much he loves you and that's why he died on the cross." She said "OOOOOOHHHHHH," that sound of either deep understanding or of feigned deep understanding. I mentally said "OOOOOHHHHHHH," because the truth of what I said hit me out of nowhere, and as much as I was capable, I understood how deeply God loves us.
My students and I were having a discussion during religion one day recently. One student raised her hand and said, "Yeah, but why did Jesus die on the cross for us?" I gave the standard answer which is something along the lines of He wanted us to be happy and live with him forever in heaven, but we couldn't because of sin, so instead of us dying for our sins, Jesus died for us so we wouldn't have to and could still be with God forever. She looked confused and dissatisfied, as she probably should have been, so I continued, "Let me put it a different way. Pretend everyone else who ever lived was perfect. Never sinned. Never did anything wrong. And the only thing you've ever done wrong was kick your brother. Once. Jesus still would have died for you. He loves you that much that even if nobody else had ever sinned, he would still want to be with you so badly that he'd go through all that pain, just for you. That's how much he loves you and that's why he died on the cross." She said "OOOOOOHHHHHH," that sound of either deep understanding or of feigned deep understanding. I mentally said "OOOOOHHHHHHH," because the truth of what I said hit me out of nowhere, and as much as I was capable, I understood how deeply God loves us.
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