Last week, I briefly mentioned my experience with the sucky-pants, worst doctor in the history of ever. You may have wondered what I was talking about. Or maybe you didn’t, but either way, I am going to tell you more about that whack-job. The following is a rant I posted to Facebook back in January after coming home from Thumper’s sixteen month check up. I apologize in advance for all the run-on sentences, comma splices and caps lock but I was very angry at the time. You might find that picturing me telling this story while gesturing madly and talking extremely fast without taking any breaths will help you to have a better understanding of how I was feeling.
My Super Bad Morning and How I Really Feel About It
So this morning, I’m running late for Thumper’s doctor’s appointment. In order to keep her happy during the car ride over, in hopes of her good mood carrying on while we visit the doctor, I give her a soother. As I breathlessly run toward the office door with Thumper hanging on my hip, an older gentlemen holds it open for me. I think to myself, ‘Wow, what a nice gesture.’ Then the old man ruins our nice little moment by looking at the soother in Thumper’s mouth and saying, “Get that thing out of her mouth!” I’m in such a rush that I don’t fully comprehend what he says until after I’m in the door, and I was already smiling because he was smiling and when he started talking, I thought he was going to say something nice like ‘Aren’t you cute?’ or some other stupid, nice thing people say when they see babies. But no, he says, “Get that thing out of her mouth.” It took all of my energy not to turn and run after him to beat him with the soother and tell him that unless he is going to be the one to calm my kid down while she’s LOSING HER FREAKING MIND while the doctor checks her out, then he doesn’t get to have an opinion and should shut. the. eff. UP. And the only reason I didn’t do that is because I was late. And the possible assault charges that would follow. And I don’t need another reason for my doctor to think that I am crazy and that’s why my child acts like a demon every time we are in her office. So let’s recap: I’m late, man insults my parenting skills, I fantasize about beating him but manage to restrain myself.
Okay, so we get called in quite quickly, which is odd, but since I’m a stupid eternal optimist, I think, ‘Awesome. This will be quick and easy and finished before Thumper has time to freak out.’ Little did I know. Forty-five, FORTY-FIVE EFFING MINUTES later, the doctor comes in. We chit-chat, Thumper is still sane. The doctor starts to examine Thumper, cue absolute chaos. The scene of us both trying to hold my screaming child down might be funny if this didn’t happen every time and if the doctor would stop judging me based on all of this. Then the doctor turns to me and says, “Is she always like this?” And I say no and calmly explain that Thumper is normally a happy kid and pretty friendly, probably overly-friendly, when in my mind I’m thinking ‘Do you have kids? Have you ever had a toddler patient before? What kid likes doctors? Or dentists? Or ANYONE who makes them stop playing and running freely to lie down on a table and get poked and have shiny lights flashed in their eyes and that stupid little thing stuck in their mouths and say “aaahhhhhhhhh?” NO ONE. NO ONE LIKES THAT YOU DUMB DOUCHEBAG.’ Then she says, “Do you think she’s hungry?” Let’s see. It’s past noon at this point. That’s not only normally Thumper’s lunchtime, but everybody else in the country’s lunchtime too. YES. YES MY KID IS HUNGRY. And let’s remember, my appointment was at 11:00, and you didn’t even come in the room until 11:45, which makes you 45 minutes late. But I was ten minutes late, so I’ll give you a ten minute credit. So you were 35 minutes late. So not only is my kid hungry but she is BORED OUT OF HER MIND. And she’s exhausted from screaming in our faces for the last 30 minutes since you actually did get here. STOP JUDGING ME, LADY. And let’s be honest. I know doctors are busy and always late. Cool, I can deal with that. Unfortunately, my toddler cannot. I also know that you are just trying to do your job and make sure that my child is the right height and weight and has no mysterious bruises or ailments and all that kiddie jazz. But again, unfortunately, my sixteen-month old does not understand who you are, let alone what you are doing to her. And I know the image of her kicking at both our faces and rolling off the table and tears streaming down her beat-red face is burned into your mind, as it is in mine, however, my kid is too young to remember the last time this happened. Or the time before that.
When we finally leave, Thumper’s still crying on my shoulder and hugging me tightly—my super-ultra independent child hugging me tightly....this almost never happens—and she falls asleep almost immediately in the car, which also rarely happens anymore. And the whole ride home, the.whole.ride.home, she is still heaving and sobbing WHILE SLEEPING. My kid is so traumatized by you, stupid doctor lady, that she is crying in her sleep. What’s that sound? Can you hear it? It’s the sound of female hearts breaking EVERYWHERE. Even the ones who hate kids.
All I am asking, stupid doctor lady, is for you to please cut my sick, teething, crying, scared sixteen month old some freaking slack, and stop judging me for having a perfectly normal baby. BITCH. Also, old man, I repeat: unless you are going to be the one to calm my kid down while she’s LOSING HER FREAKING MIND while the doctor checks her out, then you don’t get to have an opinion and should shut. the. eff. UP. BITCH.
So there you have it. My hatred for this doctor is not limited to this particular incident, as there were several similar events that happened prior to this one. Like the time she yelled at me for not giving Thumper her 18 month vaccinations even though Thumper was only 12 months old at the time. I had to remind her that she had just given Thumper her 12 month shots mere moments earlier. I could go on but I think you understand why I changed doctors the day after I wrote this rant. The silver lining in all of this is that I ended up finding a doctor I trust and love to death. And I discovered the awesomeness of a website called ratemd.com. Muhaha.