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12 ways a visit to the specialist is like a trip to Vegas

Thanks to bowel issues, we’ve had Sam on the lowest amount of medication he’s taken since early in 2013, and he’s managing himself infinitely better now than he did then. So emotionally, things are okay with him. But we’ve got to get his ass under control.

Back in April, he abruptly lost the ability to feel it when he shat. Completely. Panicked that his meds had caused the problem, I pulled back to only those he had been taking since before it started. That fixed nothing. Now, the pediatrician swears he has a bowel obstruction. There’s a specialist who thinks maybe she’s right.

The cure is ghastly.

And I’m not convinced it’s the correct one, because I’m dubious of the diagnosis. While we were waiting around for three hours at the pediatric GI’s office today, Scott made some other awful observations

1)      No clocks. Anywhere.

Seriously. We arrived at 8:45 for a 9:20 appointment. Without our cell phones, we’d have been lost in timeless Disney Channel limbo until they called us back at 10:40.

2)      You have no idea what will happen next

Sam was afraid they’d draw blood or cram a finger up his ass. He’s experienced both. We waited an hour for the doctor to press on his stomach and agree that she couldn’t feel anything backed up.

3)      Nothing changes, morning, noon, or night

The doctor couldn’t access the radiologist’s formal report to decide what she really thought was going on. We proceeded as if guessing was the best course.

4)      You can’t see outside.

Windows? We don’t need no stinking windows.

5)      Nobody is from here

Judging from her accent, I’d say the doctor is from Africa or possibly New Jersey. Hard to say which. Half the patients are from Prattville, and the others are from places with names like Hope Hull.

6)      Nothing ever comes to a conclusion

The doctor massaged Sam’s stomach and decided it wasn’t distended. I could have told her that, and  other than that, we could have conducted the entire appointment without him. Three hours out of school, and all we really got was a parent consultation, instructions I doubt will help, and a future appointment for when they fail.

7)      Nothing costs what you expect

What’s your specialist copay? Figuring it out is like learning a fucking rewards program. It depends on your insurer and the position of the moon in relationship to Mars.

8)      Everybody’s hands get dirty

Why is there hand sanitizer in the doctor’s office but not the waiting area? Why, why, why? It’s a little late by the time the nurse calls your name.

9)      You’re not sure everybody’s here for the main purpose

This office was in a hospital tower that had everything from a bank, to an open-to-the-public restaurant, to (I kid you not) a barber shop.

10)  You’re never exactly sure what you win or whether it’s worth it.

We’re going to have to torture Sam with a concoction my father would call a “colon blow” before we can give him a pill that might make him able to feel his poop again. Might.

11)  It’s a numbers game

Four months so far invested. A billion dollars spent in pull-ups. At least two specialist trips. And it’s still a roll of the dice to see if any of it works.

12)  If you wait long enough something good will happen. To somebody.

But it won’t necessarily be you.

About jesterqueen:
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.


Like Vegas Only Blander — 7 Comments

  1. This is hilarious . . . or it would be if the story behind it weren’t so serious. You have waaaay more intestinal fortitude than I (no joke intended), as I’m certain that faced with such a situation I’d have throttled someone by now. I hope a solution is found soon. Poor kid must be miserable; to say nothing of your sanity and your budget!

    • Ha! No – it’s hilarious. We’ve got to look at things from the funny end around here. And as Sam’s problems go, this one is exhausting, frustrating, and so much better than the rest that I cannot complain!!

  2. An accent that is either from Africa or possibly New Jersey… I never noticed the similarities before. Interesting. Good luck with the “colon blow.” TMI – I’ve had two colonoscopies, and have a little experience with that process. Don’t plan any trips away from home.
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  3. I don’t know who needs more love. Sam, because YIKES, my father understands his pain, or you and Scott, because you’re dealing with this shit. I’m so glad to hear that he’s managing without some of the meds, but this is a pretty unpleasant consequence. If it is a consequence. Which no medical professional seems to be able to certify……….
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