Pediatricians And Sharks

Our Pediatrician's office was spawned in the pits of hell. It was one of those things that slipped through in the mass confusion surrounding Jamie's birth. We hadn't picked a pediatrician yet, since we weren't expecting him for another couple of months, and consequently our insurance picked one for us. Trust me when I say...don't ever do that.

After five years of wanting to poke sharp things through the phone receiver every time I called and talked to Atilla the Hun, you'd have thought I'd have found a new pediatrician, but for some reason, fate thwarted me every time. I jumped at random strangers when they mentioned they loved their pediatrician, and have begged more offices in tears than I care to confess at the moment. But our kids have state insurance, and consequently I run into three problems. 1) Not very many Pediatricians accept it (not that I blame them) 2) If they do accept it, they're not accepting new patients (despite my attempts at bribing them with chocolate and tales of my children's angelic temperaments) or 3) I can't understand anyone in the office because they all speak Spanish (reason #327 I should have learned that language).

It didn't really matter too much because my kids are rarely sick. The only time the office from hades made me truly angry was when they gave Jamie the chicken pox vaccine after I specifically asked them not to. Most of the time though, they were just rude, bored and treated me like I was a teenage mother. Last time I was in there, I finally had it with the ramshackle, toyless blip in the universe. A joyless place where kids go in shrieking and come out screaming.
I got home, pulled out the PCP list and started googling every single name until I had amassed a list of reasonable sounding physicians. After much haggling with the insurance company, I finally managed to get a Dr. for my kids who both spoke English and was accepting new patients. Heaven!

Dr. Regina Mangine

I hadn't needed her services until this Sunday when Charlie came out of the church nursery with a bum hip. I hoped it would get better overnight, but of course it didn't, so off to the new doctor we went (with much fear and trepidation on my part).

I shouldn't have worried. The waiting room had toys (shocker) and books (oh the joy), and sharks! Real ones. They had a giant aquarium that rivaled the zoo in stature and exotic looking fish. My kids were so enthralled, it would have been worth the trip just for that. Charlie's hip on the other hand confounded everyone from MA's to Dr's. Something was definitely wrong with it, but no one could figure out what. They wrote me an order for an ultrasound and sent me home with instructions for ibuprofen and rest (yeah right). He's completely fine today, so perhaps he just pulled a muscle or something? It's hard to tell when they can't talk.

I'm kinda glad we went in though, if only so we could meet Dr. Mangine. She's young, sweet, smart and looks like she could be my sister. ;-) I feel like a huge weight has been taken off my shoulders.

Now I just have to get them to their well check ups.

In other news, the twins came home for the weekend, along with Becca/baby in the pod and Meagan.

We've missed all of them so much, there was much hurrah'ing done around here.