Medical Care

I just hung up the phone with one of the doctors in the child neurology unit here at our local hospital. She called because she said she had heard that I was concerned about our son's seizure the other night.

"Talk to me about your concerns," she said, and it just rubbed me the wrong way. I started seeing images in my mind of the psychologist I was sent to see ( and blogged about) for the first and only time.

I'm not looking for the doctor to extract my feelings from me. I'm looking for her to do her thang: look at the facts and tell me what does and does not work.

Then, and only then, would I discuss if they matched my opinion. lol.

Well, maybe it was the time of day. Did she catch me in a bad mood? I didn't think so, but after hearing about how attentive their EEG unit is to children with special needs and how they are successful in getting readings from children who are challenged, I asked, "So, when we went to visit you all last spring, what happened with us?"

A shocked grunt came over the phone.

"It's just that, I'm hearing you say that over 90% of the special needs children you screen have a successful experience. Our traumatic experience at your unit last spring was caught on video. Feel free to watch. And then, please tell me, what is your thought on what happened. Was your tech off that day? Or, do you not service children with needs like mine?"

Time passed with no direct answers. More words to steer me to her agenda of having our son tested in a facility that does not meet the needs of children like him, who are highly anxious at the sight of a bazillion wires, let alone the fact that they will be stuck all over his head.

No, I don't want to have to sit on him to glop those wires in his hair...again.

No, my husband does not want to have to sit on our son to restrain him from "voicing" his opinion about the situation...again.

No, I don't think that we will be needing the help of your additional personnel to restrain him, either...again.

And, while we are talking, we won't be needing the straight jacket you used on him because there is no child with autism that I know who is restrained in such a manner that will then drift happily off into sleep in order to get a reading.

We fought two hours to get our son wired and restrained only to learn that THEN he needed to calm himself.

Yes, these sounded like people who understood clearly what they were dealing with.

I thanked the doctor for following through with the directive of the emergency room, but I told her that their current system does not service a child with our level of disability. We've been down that road.

"Well, you are welcome to get a second opinion at one of the cities an hour away...but that's a bit of driving."

"With all due respect," I ventured, "staying with shotty care here is more bothersome than a drive elsewhere."

We said our pleasantries and parted ways.

I just know how she felt about me. I've been in many of these battles before. My words are very blunt, I agree. However, I see no benefit in wasting time.

So, tonight, I'm sitting on the couch, knowing that someone, somewhere, has thought of me today as a bitch.

I view these things on a case-by-case basis, and, yes, tonight I am ok with that title. It's not like it's new or anything.

I think the evening calls for a cocktail. Cheers!



Well, I did it again. It's the Mama Bear in me, and I really just couldn't stop myself. My manners