The opposite of fabulousness
Yesrerday was a lousy day.
Background: I want a referral for Ian to go to private speech therapy (and specifically a facilitated social group) during the summer, since he can't get services through the school. I called and made an appointment to see his primary care doctor for today, because no matter whether the next step was a stop at the developmental pediatrician or a direct referral, I had to see her first.
I got there at 9:07 for my 9:20 appointment. No problem. We get checked in and go look at the fishtank in the waiting room.
All of a sudden, the PA system starts broadcasting that there is a fire emergency reported in the hospital. We are to evacuate through the nearest door. One of the medical assistants tells everyone which way to go, so all the staff and patients congregate outside the building. Then a Master Sergeant shows up and tells everyone we have to walk half the way around the building to another parking lot. Off we go. We get out to the parking lot and sit. And sit. And sit some more.
Funny moment: As we were parading along the sidewalk, I said something (I don't remember what) to Sean. Ian said, "Mom, don't talk. Only staff are allowed to talk during a fire." I guess he remembers his fire drill etiquette.
Once we finally get back inside, we pretty quickly get the preliminary height/weight/blood pressure/temperature check done and go back to an exam room.
At this point, I'm still genial and cooperative. No one can expect a fire situation, after all.
And we sit. And sit. And sit. And sit. The door to the room is open. At one point, I asked one of the staff where the bathroom was. They knew I was there. Unfortunately, that information didn't get to his doctor. She was in her other exam room, expecting the staff to bring the patients back to that room. Eventually, the airman who did the prelim stuff on Ian noticed us, did a doubletake and found the doctor.
Now I have to explain that I want this referral. This would not be too much of a problem, except that Ian's doctor has left us in the hands of a brand new resident. I don't mind this, I know people have to learn, but she is struggling with the computer system. So, they tell me I have to go to the developmental pediatrician. This is fine. He should probably see Ian at some point anyway. It just hasn't been pressing since his needs have been met through the school.
How do I set up the appointment?
Oh, go to the referral center, they'll have it in the computer and make an appointment. He works out of the adolescent clinic next door.
No, wait. You don't have to go to the referral center, you can just go over to the adolescent clinic.
No, they call you.
OK, we'll call them. (And we wait some more)
When she comes back, she says the developmental peds is at Dayton Children's today, but his clinic says he's booked through May and they don't have his June schedule yet.
I politely explain that isn't going to work. I'm trying to get him services for the summer-- that's the entire point. Sure, it would be nice to keep it going in the fall, but the real purpose is to help him keep the skills he's learned this year. School is out June 5th. If I have to wait until some unspecified time in June to see him and then wait for the referral to be processed, it's going to be almost July or even into July, which makes the whole point moot.
They decide that since it will be more than 30 days until I can get an appointment with their doctor, they can refer me out to Dayton Children's. Ok, that's fine, whatever.
Except that when they call the referral center, the referral folks tell them that they need to explain the situation to the clinic and have the doctor look to see if he can fit us in. If not, then they will refer us out. Mind you, he's out today. It's almost 11:00. The kids are slowly losing it. They're hungry and bored.
Supposedly, his primary care doctor is going to see about the appointment and call me back with a time. That can't happen until tomorrow, because he's off at Childrens. You know, where they're giving me crap about referring to? .
We finally get out of there. I find a phone book at the hospital information desk and look up the number for Ian's school. It's past 11:00, and I'm not sure when lunch is for the first graders. If lunch is over, obviously I need to take him to get some food. If not, I'd rather get him back into his routine ASAP. Of course, they're eating lunch as I call.
I got them both a chicken nugget happy meal.. At least they get the apples instead of the fries, right? They eat in the car while I drive Ian to school. As we're pulling up to the school, I realize I don't have Ian's backpack. It's 11:35 now, and I'm not going back for it. I have to bring Sean back (the preschool is across the parking lot from Ian's school) for his class at 12:15. It's way too early yet to wait at the school, so I take advantage of the time to get backpacks.
At least he got back into the swing of the day without getting in trouble.
Needless to say, they haven't called today. I'm going to call them back in the morning.
The IEP meeting was fine. Good to hear how well he's doing.
Background: I want a referral for Ian to go to private speech therapy (and specifically a facilitated social group) during the summer, since he can't get services through the school. I called and made an appointment to see his primary care doctor for today, because no matter whether the next step was a stop at the developmental pediatrician or a direct referral, I had to see her first.
I got there at 9:07 for my 9:20 appointment. No problem. We get checked in and go look at the fishtank in the waiting room.
All of a sudden, the PA system starts broadcasting that there is a fire emergency reported in the hospital. We are to evacuate through the nearest door. One of the medical assistants tells everyone which way to go, so all the staff and patients congregate outside the building. Then a Master Sergeant shows up and tells everyone we have to walk half the way around the building to another parking lot. Off we go. We get out to the parking lot and sit. And sit. And sit some more.
Funny moment: As we were parading along the sidewalk, I said something (I don't remember what) to Sean. Ian said, "Mom, don't talk. Only staff are allowed to talk during a fire." I guess he remembers his fire drill etiquette.
Once we finally get back inside, we pretty quickly get the preliminary height/weight/blood pressure/temperature check done and go back to an exam room.
At this point, I'm still genial and cooperative. No one can expect a fire situation, after all.
And we sit. And sit. And sit. And sit. The door to the room is open. At one point, I asked one of the staff where the bathroom was. They knew I was there. Unfortunately, that information didn't get to his doctor. She was in her other exam room, expecting the staff to bring the patients back to that room. Eventually, the airman who did the prelim stuff on Ian noticed us, did a doubletake and found the doctor.
Now I have to explain that I want this referral. This would not be too much of a problem, except that Ian's doctor has left us in the hands of a brand new resident. I don't mind this, I know people have to learn, but she is struggling with the computer system. So, they tell me I have to go to the developmental pediatrician. This is fine. He should probably see Ian at some point anyway. It just hasn't been pressing since his needs have been met through the school.
How do I set up the appointment?
Oh, go to the referral center, they'll have it in the computer and make an appointment. He works out of the adolescent clinic next door.
No, wait. You don't have to go to the referral center, you can just go over to the adolescent clinic.
No, they call you.
OK, we'll call them. (And we wait some more)
When she comes back, she says the developmental peds is at Dayton Children's today, but his clinic says he's booked through May and they don't have his June schedule yet.
I politely explain that isn't going to work. I'm trying to get him services for the summer-- that's the entire point. Sure, it would be nice to keep it going in the fall, but the real purpose is to help him keep the skills he's learned this year. School is out June 5th. If I have to wait until some unspecified time in June to see him and then wait for the referral to be processed, it's going to be almost July or even into July, which makes the whole point moot.
They decide that since it will be more than 30 days until I can get an appointment with their doctor, they can refer me out to Dayton Children's. Ok, that's fine, whatever.
Except that when they call the referral center, the referral folks tell them that they need to explain the situation to the clinic and have the doctor look to see if he can fit us in. If not, then they will refer us out. Mind you, he's out today. It's almost 11:00. The kids are slowly losing it. They're hungry and bored.
Supposedly, his primary care doctor is going to see about the appointment and call me back with a time. That can't happen until tomorrow, because he's off at Childrens. You know, where they're giving me crap about referring to? .
We finally get out of there. I find a phone book at the hospital information desk and look up the number for Ian's school. It's past 11:00, and I'm not sure when lunch is for the first graders. If lunch is over, obviously I need to take him to get some food. If not, I'd rather get him back into his routine ASAP. Of course, they're eating lunch as I call.
I got them both a chicken nugget happy meal.. At least they get the apples instead of the fries, right? They eat in the car while I drive Ian to school. As we're pulling up to the school, I realize I don't have Ian's backpack. It's 11:35 now, and I'm not going back for it. I have to bring Sean back (the preschool is across the parking lot from Ian's school) for his class at 12:15. It's way too early yet to wait at the school, so I take advantage of the time to get backpacks.
At least he got back into the swing of the day without getting in trouble.
Needless to say, they haven't called today. I'm going to call them back in the morning.
The IEP meeting was fine. Good to hear how well he's doing.