Steaming Mad

Trent woke up with a fever of 101 yesterday morning. I gave him Tylenol and kept an eye on him all day. His fever never went away, but neither did he develop other symptoms. No coughing, no runny nose, nothing. Well, except that he's pretty clingy and isn't eating much. He's drinking plenty, so no worries about dehydration.

Then this morning he woke up just pink from head to toe. He was so hot that even his hands were sweaty and red. I took his temperature again and when it came in at 103 I called the doctor. My regular doctor was off today, so I made the appointment with the only other doctor in that office for 10:10.

Andrew stayed home from work to watch the other kids while I took Trent in, and I arrived at the clinic at 10:00. There was no one else there, so I checked in and sat in the empty waiting room.

For 40 minutes.

Four other families joined me in my wait during this time, and two of them were obviously very ill. And we waited. Not one of us was called back in that entire time, and in fact, I never even saw a nurse walk past the doorway.

So finally, I'd had enough, and I went back to the reception desk and asked how much longer it would be.

The receptionist said, and I quote:

"I'm sorry, we haven't heard from him yet."

WHAT?

"You mean he's not even here?" I asked her.

The doctor was not there, nor had he called in to tell anyone where the hell he was or when he would be coming in.

I sometimes get mad, but I rarely get to the point where I am LIVID. I told her to cancel my appointment and that I would find another doctor who would actually show up when he had appointments, then I turned around and told the other people in the waiting room that the doctor they had been waiting on for almost an hour was not even there. And I left.

I'm still so ticked, I'm shaking.

So five minutes ago I got a call from the clinic manager who wanted to make sure I had been able to reschedule my appointment. I asked her if the doctor had showed up yet, and she told me that the hospital was short handed and he was making rounds. I fail to see how that would prevent him from making a phone call to his office to tell people he was going to be late. Or, hey - he had his hands full, but surely his mouth was still functioning enough that he could have asked someone to make that simple call for him! Furthermore, why did the receptionist not bother to tell anyone that she had no idea if or when the doctor would be able to see us? She had no idea where he was and I am questioning at what point would she have let us all know that we were waiting with our sick children for NOBODY!?

Now my miserable Trent has to wait until 7:40 tonight to see a doctor who I am sure will actually be there. His fever is slightly down.

This is me. Really mad.