Barnmaven

Lady, you are so fired

There are three things it is nearly impossible to find when you relocate from one town to another: 

• Dentist
• Lady doctor
• Hairdresser

I finally found the right dentist and hairdresser in the last couple of months.  It took damn near five years, but I finally found the right fit.  Personality is a big part of it, but quality of service is important too.  I want care providers I enjoy interacting with and from whom I can expect not just a high quality of care but some personal attention.  I want them to remember who I am, what I've discussed with them in the past, what my kids names are.  I want them to remember that I never shut up about horses and special needs kids and that I hate needles and I also hate having my hair styled like I'm somebody's middle aged mother.  (Yes, I know that's what I am, I just don't need my hairdresser reminding me of it.  I want The Sexy.)

I had found what I thought was a great little practice.  It catered to mothers and children and was run by a Registered Nurse Practicioner.  They had a funky little clinic and even offered sick child care at a reasonable cost for mothers who had a sick child with whom they were unable to stay home that day.  I liked having a female practicioner for my female stuff, and I liked that she could also manage my ADHD meds.  I mostly didn't mind the long waits when I went in.  For one, OB practices are often like that.  A baby arriving might push all the appointments back.  And because she would take time talking to me, I assumed that she gave the same consideration to her other patients.  I liked that. 

Little by little, though, things changed.  And I didn't like it.  First she started offering the HCG diet out of her practice.  I'm one of those people who think that fad diets are dangerous and I wasn't impressed that my doctor was jumping on the fad diet bandwagon.  The waits started getting longer.  I waited an hour for an appointment, and it was pretty clear from the stack of people in her waiting room that she was trying to rotate too many patients.   And then, two visits ago, at the end of my visit, she handed me a business card with my prescription.  It was for a company that sells internet service and cable tv and wireless plans.  "I dont' know if I told you about this company I'm representing.  If you are in need of any data services please give me a call." 

I know doctors don't make a lot of money these days and I realize that its terribly expensive to run an OB practice with the burden of medical malpractice insurance, but really?  I'm a little more compartmentalized than that.  You're the doctor who looks at my vagina.  I really don't want you reviewing my cell phone usage, too.  And if you're trying to take care of too many patients at one time, its a sure bet every single one of us is getting a lower quality of care.

I guessed (correctly) at that point that finances were strained and she was looking to supplement her income in any way possible.  And of course, she has the right to do that.  I might not have jumped ship at that point, because I am human and I do try to be understanding.  But after the last appointment I don't know any other way to proceed.  I made an appointment for a prescription refill.  I hadn't been to her practice for three months.  I pulled up to the door with 10 minutes to spare for my appointment, only to find an empty office.  Empty as in completely devoid of furniture, phones and people.  A sign on the door only said that the office was closed, but didn't indicate if it had moved somewhere else.  I was confused.  I had made the appointment only a few days earlier.   Did they close their doors suddenly?  So I called them, and when the receptionist answered I was even more confounded.  "We moved offices." 

Wouldn't that be something you might have wanted to tell me when I made the appointment?  Or maybe added on to the "No Longer in Business" sign on your door?  So I threw the kids back in the car and drove to the new location.  I waited forty-five minutes to be seen, though the guy schlepping pharmaceuticals came in after I did and got to go back and have a few minutes of her time before I got to have my appointment.  I had to fill out all new paperwork because apparently my old paperwork didn't move to her new office with her.  And at the end of my ten minute appointment (that I had to wait a half hour for), she once again handed me her new business card with my prescription.  "I don't know if I told you about this company I'm representing."

Yes, yes you have. 

I suppose if I was interested in a dialogue I would let her know personally why I'm leaving her practice.  But the thing is, I never know if someone really cares that you don't want to be their client anymore.  Not if they don't care about telling you they've moved or remembering what they talked to you about the last time you looked at their cervix.  I mean, she'll figure it out when I don't come see her anymore.  I'm sure the request from my new doctor for my medical records will be a clue too.

 

Badass Dentistry

Here's where I admit yet another of my many failures as a mother, try to give you some bullshit excuse and then tell you how I've oversome it and now I'm a really awesome parent.

(When I was in 4-H many years ago while dinosaurs roamed the earth, they told us always to present a topic to your audience by telling them what you're going to tell them, then tell them it in detail, then summarize what you just told them.  Personally I find that boring as hell, but a little preshadowing never hurts.)

I believe my insane fear of the dentist is well into the public domain.  When I wrote that it had been two years since I had been to the dentist, what I didn't tell you is that it had also been two years for my children as well.

I know, I suck.

Its not easy to take your kids to the dentist when your own bad experiences overlay everything that's going on.  Its not easy to take them when you remember like yesterday your toddler having to undergo general anaesthesia because she couldn't handle sedation dentistry.  Its not easy to take them when your youngest child has been so anxious and afraid he screams whenever the dentist tries to look in his mouth.  No, its not impossible.  Its just not easy.  And for two years I've been hovering over them while they brush, threatening them with descriptions of what they'll be like wearing dentures in their twenties as a consequence for poor dental hygeine.  Oh yes, I'm a wonderful mother.

This year, though, I decided, would be THE YEAR.  My daughter has mostly overcome her issues with the dentist and I was more worried about the extent of the damage from the two-year-haitus in dental care than anything else.  But I was really, really avoiding having to deal with the little man and his anxieties.  Not looking forward to it at all. 

To put teeth in my resolve, I scheduled dental appointments for everyone in the family.  SG and I both had our exams and cleanings and are still in sticker shock over the anticipated costs for the crowns we both need (gritting your teeth when you are stressed is by all evidence a very bad thing to do).  The kids' appointment hit some conflicts and had to be rescheduled twice, and each time I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking, "Oh thank GOD, I can put this off a little longer." 

I kept waiting for a good excuse to reschedule a third time, but life refused to cooperate, so I showed up at the dental office with a little bit of determination and a whole lot of apprehension.  In keeping with our reward-based behavior mods for Race Car Man, he had been promised some DS during free time if he let the dentist look at his teeth. 

Not being one to aim low, he went for the gold.

Not only did the doctor get to examine his teeth, he let the hygienist clean them and give him a flouride treatment AND he got both bite-wings and a panoramic x-ray. 

It was a raging success.

While I think the kid-friendly open seating and movie screens (with headsets) helped, the most important factor was the dentist and his staff.  He introduced himself to my children:  "Hi, my name's David.  What's yours?"  And from there it was just marvelous.  He said we would let my son set the pace and they would not do any procedure he didn't consent to.   He then spent a good five minutes just chatting with each of my kids, asking them about their interests and their schools and their friends, and he didn't ask them to open their mouths until he had really earned the right to do so.

C:  "Why are you wearing that mask?"

D:  "I want to cover my mouth.  I have to talk sometimes when I'm working on your teeth, and sometimes when I talk a little piece of spit might come flying out of my mouth.  If your mouth is open at the same time, my spit might go in your mouth and man, that's just GROSS." 

Badass.  If the man wasn't already married with about 10 children, and if I wasn't so damn much in love with SG, I would have kissed him.

The hygienists were equally as badass.

They let my son feel the rubber cap on the cleaning tool.  They let him watch other kids have their x-rays done so he would understand the process.  They gave my daughter purple sunglasses because she's sensitive to the overhead light.   When my son wanted to get up and look around the room, they allowed him complete freedom.  They had screens on the ceilings above the chairs and nice padded headsets for them to watch movies.  They answered their questions. They explained things very factually but in terms that were not frightening.  They treated them with respect.

It was clear to see that this was not their first experience with special needs, and it was equally clear that the comfort of their patients is their number one priority. 

While its still true that in my heart of hearts I'm no fan of the dentist, in this one case, I may have to make an exception. 

Dentistry for kids.  Totally BADASS.

Dang, they're THAT good.

***This post has not been sponsored in any way, shape or form by Bank of America or its employees or advertisers.***

I've heard the tales from so many friends, even my own brother.  Someone stole their information and their account was overdrawn by hundreds or even thousands of dollars in transactions generated by the thief.  They waited days or even weeks for the bank to investigate, verify and reverse the charges.  It was a horrible, long, drawn out process.   It will never happen to me. 

Yes, and no.

I was down to about a quarter of a tank this morning and so stopped to get gas on the way to work.  My commute is 90 miles round trip, give or take, and I don't much relish the thought of getting stuck on Highway 14 while the farm trucks and the 18-wheelers speed by.

I flipped the switch on my tank, got out and unscrewed the cap.  I stuck my debit card in the slot and prepared to enter my PIN.  "Card not authorized."  Huh.  Tried again.  "Card not authorized.  See cashier."  Now, it was entirely possible that I had inadvertently overdrawn my account.  It happens from time to time, one of the many drawbacks of ADHD being that sometimes I fail to remember that I bought or did something the day before and that I don't have enough money to do or buy something today as a result.  No worries, I thought, I'll check the account balance when I get to work and transfer funds if I have to.

After back to back morning meetings until almost lunchtime, I finally got the chance to log in to my account.  Account was safely in the green, and nothing to indicate a problem.  Hmmm.  Maybe the card is just getting worn out.  It IS due to be replaced this year.  No biggie. 

But it kept bothering me all day.  Finally, I called the customer service number and selected the option to review my transactions.  The first three were easily recognizable as mine.  But the next:

"A debit card withdrawal in the amount of $236.97 to [something unprounceable]."

"A miscellaneous reversal in the amount of $236.97."

The next word out of my mouth started with the letter F, which the automated system didn't recognize as being a valid option.  I tried a different word:  "Representative."

As it turns out, someone attempted to use my debit card yesterday to book a hotel room in Finland.

Bank of America?  Caught it immediately, reversed the charge and put a stop on my card.  That's how good they are.  One charge, caught and reversed.   One charge.

Bank of America, it was a little inconvenient today to have to dig the ones out of my wallet to buy enough gas to get to work.  However, it would have been a hell of a lot MORE inconvenient if the thieving assholes who stole my account information had charged enough money to put me in a hole I can't afford to be in and tied up my account for lord only knows how long.

Bank of America, if I didn't have a boyfriend, I would KISS YOU.  Hard.  On the lips.  As it is, would you settle for a really tight hug?  Your account protection team is top-notch and I can't thank you enough for protecting my piddly little bank balance.   I'm grateful beyond words right now.

(Now un-lay-off my friend Leslie and we'll be besties forever.)

I get my new debit card in 7-10 days.  Somehow I think I'll be using cash only for a while - even after the new card comes.