Friday, April 4, 2014

Doctors with Magic Wands

I know I can't possibly be the only person who gets angry when I show up to a doctor's office and am told there's nothing they can do.  I know I can't be the only one who cringes at the word, "virus."  Two weeks ago, we were at the doctor's office because The Redhead was sick.  I was told by her new pediatrician it was just a cold and she'd be fine.  The fever lasted five days and I was starting to doubt her.  After all, she ran absolutely no tests.  And after what we went through in June, the three week marathon fever whilst packing, mind you, I get a little territorial and suspicious over The Redhead's health.


Then yesterday afternoon happened.  The Redhead was covered in a head to toe rash.  Every part of her was plagued.  Hands.  Feet.  Ears.  Face.  Legs.  Arms.  Elbows.  Chest.  Back.  You get the point, I think.  The doctor's office reluctantly took her in.  They made me go through three different people over the phone, answering the same questions, before they begrudgingly made me an appointment.  I am NOT the Mother who overreacts at a sneeze.  Or a cough.  Or an elevated temperature.   I carefully consider symptoms, so if I think something is awry, it usually is.  Then we go in and even though they had absolutely no idea what was wrong with her, even admitted it, they refused to run any tests.  They admitted it didn't look just like hives.  Or any other typical viral rash.  They admitted it was quite unusual.  The doctor brought in a colleague.  She didn't know what to think either.  Yet, they diagnosed her with Fifth's Disease, even though it didn't match the information in the medical book they brought in.  But they had to say she had something.  Then they printed out some information for me, deemed it Fifth's, said she was fine, and sent me on my way.


And then I was angry.


Mister Man and I started thinking we needed a new doctor's office.  We have not been happy with this pediatrician's office.  And sure, we'd had her old pediatrician, even before she was born, these people just don't seem nearly as competent.  And they've yet to give us any reason to trust them.  The first time we ever saw them, for The Redhead's wrist, the doctor forgot to send her referral to the ortho and they kept thinking I was crazy, until over a month later, four weeks later than intended.  And so instead of telling us how long the cast had to stay, it was time to take it off and we were healed.  An unorthodox method, but at least she healed.  So that experience didn't really help me with my frustration level over this rash.



But here's something that dawned on me.  I go to a doctor expecting results.  I expect them to practically wave a magic wand and make everything better.  I want a prescription and a smile and a guarantee everything's going to get better.  I expect them to know exactly what's wrong.  And I expect it to have an easy solution, involving antibiotics and not being contagious within twenty-four hours.  And I get mad when they don't know what's wrong.  I get angry when they can't just wave a wand or write a prescription.  I get frustrated when they say there's nothing they can do.  Isn't it their job to do something? Anything?  Aren't they supposed to fix it?


I know I can't be only one who feels this way.


And then I reminded myself of something else.  Just because they went to college far more years than I did, just because they have a medical degree doesn't change the fact that sometimes it is just allergies.  Sometimes it really is a virus.  Sometimes they simply don't know.  That they really are also human.  And as mad as I get that they aren't just waving a wand, and as mad as I get that they are just human, that maybe, just maybe there's a possibility, that they're mad at times too.  No wonder doctors can be known for having a god complex.  Here I am thinking of them the same.



I can't be alone in this.


And no, I don't believe she has Fifth's.  And yes, I do think they were just throwing something out of the air because they didn't know.  But not all mysteries can be solved.  No matter how good of a detective someone can be.  And maybe, just maybe, I need to remember that.  And stop waiting for the wave of a magic wand and just hope for the best.  Because no one has a magic wand.  No matter who your doctor is.

No comments:

Post a Comment