Monday, January 14, 2008

There's something to be said for the crazy pediatricians of the world.

My kid woke up on Saturday morning with all of the symptoms of strep throat - he's had it enough times that I can recognize it. So we kept him medicated and hydrated all weekend and this morning I set about the arduous task of locating a new pediatrician*. The first place I called, a shiny new office opened less than a month ago, less than a mile from our house. I explain that my son is in a lot of pain, has a fever, blah blah blah.

"We can see him at the beginning of next week," the receptionist offers.

"I'll be bleeding from the eyeballs by then," my kid says when I tell him.

The next three offices I call, I get voicemail - I leave messages and get no call back. Finally, I pick one more random name off of the insurance's website, it said that the doctor had graduated from college in Poland in 1982** so I call. The stern-sounding Eastern European woman who answered the phone offers an appointment for 10 - rock on.

We get there and, after a couple minute's wait***, get taken back into one of the exam rooms. After a couple more minutes, this friendly-looking Polish guy ambles in and starts chatting with us about Savannah, GA and saying that he wants to retire somewhere where there are trees... He starts yapping about how Corpus Christi is ugly and how the city has plenty of problems... then he starts talking about what a freakish giant my child is and how he's off the charts for all of their measurements... then he starts talking about basketball and how he "just knows" that my kid is good in sports and how he wants his autograph now for when he's in the NBA, then he says it's "too bad he can't jump as high as the black guys" (insert record scratch noise)... then he tells my kid to lay down on the examining table and he says "I'm just going to check your treasures, don't be ashamed" and he regales us with some anecdote about some fourteen-year-old boy who only had one nad... then he says he's sure that my kid doesn't have strep throat, but he's going to check anyway because he "might be surprised"... then he leaves the room and comes back with a giant q-tip (mmmm, tonsil swab) and some magazine pages with pictures of Poland and starts talking about the problems he encountered with the socialist medicine system back in Poland... then he leaves and comes back again, announcing that my kid does haves strep throat, he writes out a prescription, asks me how far Savannah is from the beach and asks how long we plan on living in Texas.

When he were finally walking out of the office, my kid looks at me and says "I can't believe you picked him off of the website."

"I had no way of knowing he was insane"

"I feel violated. And you kept laughing when he checked my treasures."

"Come on, if that had happened to your dad, you know you would have laughed."

"Yeah, it would be pretty funny," he admitted.

Of all the doctors I ever saw when I was a kid, the only ones I remember are the weird ones, the ones who pulled lollipops out of my ears or said odd things. It's kind of nice, or at least amusing, to know that there are still weirdos out there.



* he hasn't been sick enough for us to seek medical help since we moved here

** I always look at the graduation year because I don't want a doctor who is too old - I figure graduation year of '82 is decent and the guy is probably still young enough to like his job.

*** This was a nice change, every other pediatrician's office we've been to has ALWAYS kept us waiting for a ridiculous amount of time

Labels: adventures in shitty parenting