Doctors Make me Sick.

So I got up early and tore Ethan out of his nice comfy bed, plopped him in a bath and bathed him super-duper fast, being as careful as I could to not get water and soap in his eyes but we were on a schedule-and we were late-threw him in some clothes and into the car and then fought traffic to get to our darn appointment on time. I drove around a couple of parking lots before I finally found the right address and then we walked through those glass doors right at 9:15.
I filled out all of the paper work while keeping my eye on Ethan so he wouldn't steal other kids toys and they wouldn't steal his, and when I gave the very nice lady behind the counter my insurance card I said, "It should go to our deductible," because we have fairly cheap insurance (we're still talking hundreds of wasted dollars a year) but that means we have to pay for everything until we meet our six thousand dollar deductible. I love insurance.
So then we waited. Ethan played with the one dumb puzzle they had and rocked back and forth on this neon green thing that was obviously busted, missing parts, grossly dirty and should have been in the dumpster out back.
But maybe I am getting a head of myself.
When we had Ethan, AT HOME (gasp, catch your breath, lie down if you need to) no pediatrician in Reno would touch him with a ten foot pole because he didn't get a vitamin K shot, this incredibly important shot that keeps children's brain from bleeding to death. Ethan didn't bleed to death but I guess he was a really really rare case.
Anyway, my mom made a few phone calls and I finally got him in with my childhood pediatrician after we vowed to not to be those parents who give grief about vaccinations. We promised we would do every single one without so much as a peep.
At this point I was desperate. After being rejected by so many pediatricians, I thought something must be wrong with Ethan, and would some person in a white jacket just please look at him. Please.
So we agreed to the vaccination thing.
But now that we are thinking of getting pregnant and I want to use a midwife again, I thought, you know what? I want a doctor who I can actually be honest with. (I have thrown out, unfilled, every prescription Dr. D has written for Ethan). I want a doctor who thinks a little bit more like me, that antibiotics and vaccines used IN MODERATION are great but are scary used otherwise.
So I was trying a new doctor today. One that doesn't beat you if you don't give your children vaccines, one that won't gave a damn, or a dirty look, if you tell them you are going to use a midwife.
So anyway, Ethan was rocking on that green busted piece of junk and thirty minutes later they called us back. I wasn't mad or angry or impatient at this point. OK, maybe I was on the verge of impatient.
Now, forty minutes later, after sitting in a room that had one more dumb puzzle, a bio hazard trash can, and locked cabinets for Ethan to play with, I was impatient. I was fuming. I was shaking.
I mean, it sounds like I was overreacting. But I was PAYING for this. A hundred dollars to meet the doctor.
And then I thought, what the heck am I doing? Ethan is not sick. Why am I here? And I put our jackets on and told the young girls in the cute cartoon scrubs at the the desk that we were going home.
When I got home I thought well, we will stay with Dr. D. So I called her office to get his two year old "Well Visit" appointment and they were closed. On a Friday. They are also closed EVERY Thursday, and every other Wednesday. Nice. Looks like Ethan has like two good days to be sick on otherwise we are screwed.
And this is what I have realized: I am not a doctor person unless I am sick. And I am not going to take Ethan to a doctor unless he is sick. What is up with a "Well Visit"?
Something is seriously twisted.