Do you feel like your child’s specialists really ‘get’ you? {image credit: sellingpix / 123RF Stock Photo}
The only redemptive feature of hours and hours in doctor waiting rooms is the abundance of fun magazines.
Ok, not abundance. More like a handful of worn, outdated family magazines which, to their credit, at least offer some “Oh, I haven’t tried that one before” snack-making ideas. But even those magazines can have interesting quizzes in them. As I left the neurologist’s office yesterday morning, I found myself thinking about our appointment in quiz form.
How would you answer these questions?
When you tell the neurologist that your 4th grader nearly drowned recently during what looked like a seizure, and he instead dwells on her history of post-adoptive behavior struggles, you:
- Repeat your concern. He obviously didn’t hear the part about how she lost consciousness and almost drowned in the jacuzzi.
- Stand up and walk out of the room, because you’re done wasting your time with professionals who won’t listen.
- Ignore his conversational direction and ask what next steps we can take to rule out seizures.
- Tweet a scathing review of the doctor so anyone listening will know how frustrated you are.
(My answer: 1 and 3).
When you describe your child’s suspected seizures as marked by disorganized, repetitive movements and slurred speech, and that you can’t get her attention even when you hold her face in your hands, and he suggests pinching her next time, because she might be simply daydreaming, you:
- Repeat your concern. He obviously didn’t hear the part about how she nearly drowned.
- Stand up and walk out, because… seriously?? Do daydreaming 10-year-olds often have this issue?
- Ignore his conversational direction and ask what next steps we can take to rule out seizures.
- Tweet AND update Facebook friends with a scathing review of the doctor.
(My answer: 1 and 3. And handed the smart phone to my child so I didn’t do #4.)
When you tell this doctor that the psychiatrist referred you because no attention, mood-stabilizing or anxiety-treating medications have managed your child’s space-out moments, and he says “Maybe it’s time to try ADHD medications?” you:
- Repeat your concern. He obviously didn’t hear the part about how she nearly drowned.
- Stand up and walk out, because… wow, now it’s some alien, meds-resistant form of ADHD??
- Ignore his conversational direction and ask what next steps we can take to rule out seizures.
- Tweet, Facebook your friends, AND blog a scathing review of the doctor.
(My answer: 1 and 3. And deep breathed so I didn’t do #2 after waiting 3 months for this appointment).
When the doctor—at the end of a visit in which he didn’t seem to get what you were saying AT ALL—prescribes a multiple-day walking EEG to rule out seizures, you:
- Scoop your jaw off the floor and thank him before he notices how stunned you are that he was (sort of?) listening.
- Shake off another stressful appointment by cranking up the music and singing all the way home because you didn’t act like the angry-mama-bear that you felt like in there.
- Thank God that He really is answering prayer and advocating for your child, even if it doesn’t seem like it right then.
(My answer: all of the above. And get frozen yogurt. And tell God I’m sorry for not trusting him. Again.)
As painful as this doctor’s visit was, it answered for me afresh the age-old question: “Is God listening to my prayers?” Even if the specialist isn’t, it seems God still is. And that’s some very, very good news.
“[God] hears us…” (1 John 5:14 NLT)
Even when it feels like nobody else does.
Question for you: Any frustrating specialist appointments lately? What have you found that helps you keep your cool or get more of what your child needs?
-Laurie
Latest posts by Laurie Wallin (see all)
- Parents, God Has Not Forgotten Your Dreams - November 11, 2015
- Letting Special Needs Kids Grow Up - September 9, 2015
- God Has Not Forgotten You - May 13, 2015