
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 More like a handful of worn, outdated family magazines which, to their credit, at least offer some “Oh, I haven’t tried that one before” snack-making ideas.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


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Laurie, I loved this! So true, so true! And how wonderful when we can walk forward with grace instead of anger or frustration, and end up getting the help our kids so desperately need!
Mostly without anger and frustration. It came back a few times in waves after the visit. But I keep focusing on the end result: we got the EEG! 🙂
Oh, Laurie, you had me laughing and wanting to cry all at the same time. I may not have had my child in the office for seizures but I know what it’s like to not be heard and to face the same ol’ same ol’ from doctors who (being only human), simply don’t know the answers to our questions and it’s maddening. It’s the stuff that drives the most Christ-like to tweet, blog, Facebook and scribble scathing reviews! I recently read a post by Steve Grcevich (Signs that it’s time for parents to reconsider their child’s current#mentalhealth treatment- http://t.co/IRQanG6liS #kidmin #fammin#spnmin) that details the signs that it may be time to move on. I wish I’d read this list earlier; we have wasted a few years in the hands of the wrong doctor. Thankfully, God is more than able to restore what the locusts have stolen but it’s hard to have to go through it. Love your writing. Love your momma’s heart! –Kelli
Sorry to hear you’ve been through that years-with-wrong-doc situation. I think my issue at this point, after 8 years of doctors and specialists increasingly treating us this way with my she-looks-so-normal-on-the-outside daughter, I’m having trouble just walking in to their offices. God’s challenging me to trust, trust, trust again. Crazy how he can put us all in these situations and there’s always something more we can learn. I’ll check out that link you shared. Thanks!
Oh, my. Been there, Laurie. Oh, yeah.
Yeah – it’s still poor form on the doctors part. The history and physical – should be a conversation – with both sender and receiver of information. i.e. – someone with enough social finesse to acknowledge (at minimum) – they have heard both your review of symptoms, and acknowledge the concern you have…. (dah). If he’s you’re only option for neurologist – great – adapt to his style. … however….
I would also ask if he shares your concern. “Dr. so-so-so, I’m very concerned about these symptoms, does that make sense? would they be worrisome to you if this was your child?, …. and I would problem that doctor along those lines. 90% will respond with a minimal “yes” – even if they’re trying to stay focused on all the questions they have.
I think that’s what got his attention at the end. He said “I don’t think this is seizures, but do you have any more questions?” and I said, “what do I do with her around water? Can she take a bath?” It’s like it clicked… that even if he didn’t know what she was experiencing, we still shouldn’t be cavalier with her in what could be a life-threatening situation. It was at that point that he said “You know what, let’s schedule an EEG.” Ha!