Leaping

Last month was open enrollment at work.  If you wanted to change insurance plans, that was the time to do it.

I have had the same insurance for 15 years.  Corey has been with the same pediatrician 16 years (plus one year with the doctor who retired from there).  I love the pediatrician.  Love him.  And his wife, who was also Corey's pediatrician at one point.  And his staff, most of whom I've known since they were interns or fresh from training.

I really like my OB.  I guess since having my tubes tied, he's really just a GYN for me, but that's not how I think of him.  Naked hugs and differing views on prenatal testing, circumcision and vaccinations aside, that little old man never fails to make me smile when I see him.

I even like my general practitioner.  I don't care for his front office people, but he and his physician assistant have given very good care to me and all of my local parents.

Then why even contemplate switching?

Because it took three weeks to get a referral for Mad to see a neurologist after having what we're all pretty sure was a seizure at her birthday party.  When the pediatrician sent the request to our medical group, it was marked URGENT!  Maybe it was written in some special ink that only we could see, because it was only urgent to us.

When we did receive the referral, it had a doctor's name, but no contact information.  At all.

We asked our ped (Mad calls him Dr. Present) for help (we had an appointment with him the same day) and his assistant was able to track down the doctor.  We saw her fax the referral and Mad's file to the neuro's office, again marked URGENT!  But again, it was only urgent to us.  We were told to wait for someone to call us the next day to schedule the appointment.

When no call came, Tom called them.  They hadn't received the referral and wouldn't discuss anything until they received it.  They would call when they had it.

Dr. Present's office re-faxed it.

Again Tom had to call them.

They had everything, but it would take a week to review Mad's file.  It had already been a few days, so we should hear from them in a few more.  They wouldn't schedule an appointment during this call because May was booked solid.  So was June.  And it was too soon to start scheduling July.  They'd call us when they were ready.

At two other appointments (Fynn gets vaccinated monthly instead of the standard schedule, so we've been there a lot), Dr. Present had someone call and see if they could move things along.  They couldn't.

Despite all of this, we hemmed and hawed about switching.  This wasn't from one (sub)standard HMO to another; this was Blue Cross to Kaiser.  If you're not from these parts, Kaiser is a whole different insurance beast.

I was born at Kaiser.  Like a lot of stories about Kaiser from back in the day, my birth story often ends with "and yet we lived."

But the newer stories, say in the past five years, are overwhelmingly positive.  After questioning every Kaiser patient within our circle, we made the decision to switch.

I am going to miss Dr. Present and his staff tremendously.  Where else will I be able to walk in with Fynnie Fynn and have someone ask about Corey?

We are eight days from becoming Kaiser patients.  Corey and Madelyn need to be seen right away.  I called to see if I could get a jump on scheduling.

I could.

Mad will see her new pediatrician in twelve days and we should be able to leave with a referral to a neurologist   We probably won't get our initial consult with the Kaiser neuro as early as we would had we stayed with Blue Cross (yes, that's me rolling my eyes).  The Blue Cross neuro's office called last week and had an appointment available for the middle of July.  Yes, of this year.

Corey's needs will be met around the same time as Mad's.

I did lodge a grievance with Blue Cross.  This is my daughter's brain we're talking about here.  If something is really wrong, we should already be doing something about it, not playing power struggle games with egotistical neurology practices or slow moving medical groups.

After a few surprisingly simple and very helpful calls to Kaiser today, I'm feeling hopeful that this was the correct path for us.

Girl, Whaaat?!?

No really.  I swear it's true.

What's that?  You didn't get my text?  It said I spent three hours spent surrounded by guns and now I smell like Tommy Lasorda.  I'll add that I laughed and cried and laughed.  A lot.

Dude, I couldn't make this stuff up.  This is way better than the naked hug with my doctor, too.  I swear.

Today was the annual Police Recognition Luncheon.  Tommy Lasorda was a surprise guest speaker.  His stories about a few less than academic ball players were HI-larious.  ("Saxie, what's today's soup?"  "Of the Day.")  Afterward, my friend Lisa and I got our picture taken with him.  His cologne was awesome.  We kissed him.  Tommy Lasorda's cheek is soft and smooth.  As Mad used to say, "dey nice."  Speaking of which, it was my idea that we kiss him, but it was Lisa's decision to ask if we could fondle his cheeks.  He did not decline.  We stuck to the soft cheeks on his face.

I'd post the pic, except that I don't have it yet.  Oh, and for some reason I asked my skinny friend Lisa to be in the shot with me.  Why did I do that?  The last time we had our photo taken together, my head appeared to be three times the size of hers.

Here's a quick summary of why I'm pretty sure I won't be posting the photo when I do receive it.

Psychically Linked to My Physician

No, not the one who gave me the naked hug.  I have a team of specialists, people.  A team.

Or, well, I have an OB (AKA the Naked Hugger) and a regular doc.  Regular Doc has been my dad and Margaret's GP since right before Margaret had her accident.  Only he didn't know he was her doc yet.  The switch was that right before.  So when it came to getting doctor's orders for Margaret to be moved from an intermediate care unit at the hospital to a rehabilitation center, my dad had to call and explain.  Only he couldn't deal with one more thing at that moment, so I called. 

I explained the situation to the receptionist, figuring she'd speak with the doctor and either let me know what he said right then or call me back to do so.  Do you know what happened?  The man got on the phone within a matter of about 30 seconds, got the lowdown and approved the orders.  Margaret was moved at 5:00 that night.  That man is magical.

Do you know why else he's magical?  Because my father, the man who throughout my childhood proudly displayed a poster with a picture of an orangutan and a caption that read, "If I want your opinion I'll beat it out of you" (yes, really... I have a photo of him sitting proudly on his Harley in full biker regalia in front of that poster... he gave one to each of his girls about 10 years ago), actually listens to the man.  And follows his instructions.  Dad's health isn't great (that's what being free and easy in the 70's will do to a person, I suppose).  He gets blood work done regularly.  And goes to all of his appointments with Dr. Mike.

Do you know why else he's magical?  Because my mother, the woman who had an infection in her leg so bad that she basically slept through her mini-vacation at my grandparents and then promised them she'd go to the doctor as soon as she got home... but went to a cabin in the mountains ALONE for three days before going home (thereby keeping her word, don'tcha know), therefore ending up in the hospital for a week, followed by a couple weeks of home health care... she actually listens to the man.  And follows his instructions, gets blood work, etc. etc.

In case you're wondering, yes, there was some confusion in the office with my dad, his wife and ex-wife all being patients.  I think it's clear now.

Dr. Mike has officially been my doctor for a few years, but I'd never been to see him until recently.  Mostly I don't get sick (this past fall and winter were an aberration... and if my aberration coughs on us one more time I will flip out all over him, mm-hmm).  There was one time when I tried to get an appointment, but couldn't.  Doc was on vacation and his receptionist didn't have an on-call alternative, nor would she schedule my appointment before he was back.  It was bee-zarre, to say the least.  And annoying.

I never bothered to find another doctor.  When I recently had issues that should be dealt with, I tried again.  I have to say I don't care for Dr. Mike's front office people.  But the man?  He took care of everything that could be handled by him, referred me to an orthopedist for a ganglion cyst (am I becoming freaking cyst-tastic or what?).  When I had more issues, I saw his physician assistant, who ran labs and gave me some suggestions on how to manage my dizziness in the meantime.

I didn't get right on the blood work because that night was when Fynn got so sick.  Then I was sick.  Then I was on my period.  I figured my best blood should be tested.  So I went when things settled down (and after I resumed prenatals).

Today I was thinking about what the PA said about getting my test results.  "If there's a problem, we'll contact you.  If not, we won't."  Personally, I don't trust this method of communication.  Sometimes people overlook something or forget to make a call.  Wouldn't it be nice if they could just call?  Is that too much to ask?

This evening I asked Tom what came in the mail.  "Bill for my car, something from DirecTV (dude, that's junk... have you noticed we've had FiOS going on two years now?) and something for you from some medical place.  I don't know what it is."

Turns out it was a card from Dr. Mike's office, but in an envelope so that prying eyes would not know my test results.  'Cuz I'm mysterious like that.  It says I'm normal.  In writing.  I don't care what you've heard or read.  Dr. Mike said it, so it must be true.  Like magic.

PS Coincidentally, now that Fynn's past that growth spurt/illness/teething thing, I get more sleep.  Turns out I'm a lot less dizzy when I'm not exhausted.  Go figure!

Eww!

Today I had my annual physical.  It was sort of wrong on many levels.  Yes, I'm going into them all, so you may want to click away now.


1) The conversation during said exam centered around sweet potato recipes.  Doc favors a candied yam with brown sugar, peach liqueur and a ton of butter, but two of his family members keep kosher, so he was modifying.  I do a baked sweet potato with orange juice and zest and whole cranberries.  Doc thinks he might try it with Cuantro. 


I'm easing you in here, can you tell?


2) The appointment was scheduled during the typical time of what I'm going to call my morning constitutional. I really had to go right before the exam. After debating the added discomfort of not going versus the effort trying to make sure I was as tidy afterward as before, I decided to wait. Not sure if I made the right decision, but I did not embarrass myself.  I do, however, wonder what a woman looks like when trying not to embarrass herself.


3) After doc was done with his part, I realized I've never mentioned to him that I think I may have been stitched oddly after Fynn was born.  So I reached right down there, fumbled around until I found what I was looking for and tried to point it out.  He didn't see anything right away, so I had to do it again.  He felt around and finally found what I was talking about.  Turns out I have a sebaceous cyst that he's going to leave alone for now.  Greaaat.  (Uh, not that I want to be lanced or anything... I would really prefer the magic wand treatment, please.)


4) After he said, "See you next year!" I mentioned that we may have to switch insurances (from one type of giant to another) next summer.  If so, I won't be seeing him.  He hugged me and said he would miss having me as his patient, and that he wouldn't miss all of his patients.  All very nice, but as he hugged me I thought about the fact that I was wearing a very short pink cotton cape backwards and had a large pink square of fabric covering most of my lower half.  I was basically naked.  I've been smelling his cologne all day long.


Well, that's it on my end.