Wednesday, August 08, 2012

The black brush

After months of settling in process, there are still a few loose ends.  We still haven't met our doctors or dentist.  I have appointments, but most required a month-plus wait.  Our pediatrician appointment was this morning at 9am.

The girls are up so early each day that usually by 9, we're all starting to get a little stir-crazy.  An appointment at 9 was perfect.  Yesterday, I remembered to get the records ready.  I double-checked them twice.  

This morning was a lovely morning.  The girls played.  We baked muffins.  We all sat together and munched and chatted until it was time to walk to their art which point I remembered our appointment.  Nearly an hour too late.

It was a simple, honest mistake and I took full responsibility for it when I called the office to see what we could do, but I am still painted with the black brush.  New patient who cannot be bothered to show up for her very first appointment, especially one with so many things (back-to-school physicals, prescription refills...) to check off the list.  They let me know what that meant for my mothering skills.  I wonder if it would give them satisfaction to know that after we rescheduled in six weeks' time that I cried for an hour.

The irony is that if it had been a stressful, crazy morning, there is no way I would have forgotten.  I would have been eager to run out the door with somewhere we had to go.  But it wasn't and I did forget.  I feel bad, but that doesn't mean I am bad.  I hate being painted with that black brush.

Earlier, I was upset.  I thought I was dramatizing a bit when I talked about the black brush, but it seems I wasn't.

Change "black brush" to "Black List."

One of the receptionists called us again this afternoon, saying she needed to reschedule us with someone else in the practice.  She was the nicest person I had talked to this morning, and she said she told him I was very sorry, that I had called less than an hour late with an apology.  She said the doctor had then told her that if we cannot keep our appointment, we cannot see him at all.  One strike and we're out.  She seemed embarrassed and emphasized that he made her call.  Apparently, this isn't policy.

To add insult to injury, this doctor is our neighbor.  He literally lives two houses down from us.  The reason we waited this long to see him is because all the families on our street use him and rave about how great he is.  Although we haven't met him yet, he knows he's our neighbor (another neighbor told me she told him about us and her recommendation).  I'm glad he is wonderful to them.  He has been awfully harsh towards us today.  It's going to be hard smiling when I see him in the street, but I will do it.

In the meantime, I took my daughter to a very friendly urgent care centre, where they happily did her physical and gave us prescription refills.  No appointment.  No wait.
We were there when the receptionist called me about my Black List status, and the doctor we were seeing was kind enough to be shocked.  She said she has not met a doctor with a one strike policy (usually it's three and sometimes not even then).  At least I can feel somewhat reassured that this isn't what to expect now that we're back in the States.  It has been a hard transition.

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