Meet Dr. Idiot

Today is 9/11. I know everyone is well aware of the date as well as the day. And we all have a story to tell about how we were affected. I highly recommend that you head over to Burgh Baby's site and check out her pictures of the Flight 93 crash site. While you're there feel free to click around for quite a while. All proceeds gained from clicks obtained at her site during the month of September will be donated to the Flight 93 Memorial fund. Truly, a worthy cause.

For the two or three readers of mine who don't already know, we live within 10 miles of the Flight 93 crash site. (Ten miles as the crow flies, not by twisty country roads.) I was going to take the kids this evening after school because I don't think they should ever forget what the heroes of 9/11 have done. But you know that the universe seems to make plans without consulting me most days. Today was no exception.

Josh came home from school limping. He twisted his foot in gym and couldn't bear any weight on it. The good news is that it's not broken. This was determined after x-rays and an MRI, and a dinner run to McD's Golden Arches for the entire x-ray department. The bad news is that I'll spend most of tomorrow following up from tonight. Josh can't participate in gym for at least a week so I asked for the doctor's slip for this request right then and there. Dr. Idiot thought it would be way more fun to wait until the x-rays were done. You know, so that the pediatrician's office would be closed and I'd have to call back and have them fax something to the school on our behalf.

Dr. Idiot is not my favorite person in the whole wide world. In fact, he ranks even below Dr. Freakazoid. The only reason we even doctor there is because of his associate who loves Micah only slightly less than I do. Because of this Dr. Wonderful associate we won't even be changing doctors when a branch of Children's opens right here in our own small town. It's tempting, but Dr. Wonderful is really all that.

And then there's Dr. Idiot. It's a really good thing that we only see him a few times a year at most. There was the time we were in for pink eye. Any idiot knows what that looks like but of course a parent can't self-diagnose. Dr. Idiot opened the exam room door, squatted down to eye level of the child, squinted so that he could see the whole way across the room, and said "yep, it's pink eye." Heaven forbid he actually get close a contagious patient.

But the clincher for my well-founded dislike of him is the remark made after Micah's diagnosis of Down syndrome. I knew absolutely nothing about Downs when Micah was born (and I'm not exaggerating on that point) but in the week between his birth and his diagnosis I'd educated myself enough to learn a few things. When we got the positive test results back I asked if Micah was T21 or had Mosaicism. With great sarcasm, Dr. Idiot informed me that there weren't different types of Downs. There was just the one, and Micah had it.

I've not had anything good to say about Dr. Idiot ever since. In fact, I was so hacked at the tone and ignorance that I nearly changed doctors after that. We decided in the end that driving an hour to the next nearest pediatrician wasn't a feasible option and have made a point to request Dr. Wonderful when at all possible.

So today, on 9/11, our plans were thwarted just as plans were changed in world altering ways 7 years ago. No, it's not nearly on the same scale. But I find it to be a fitting way to have spent the day. Maybe we'll go visit the crash site this weekend. We may remember it a little more when we're forced to hobble around on crutches.

May we never forget.