With more assertion (ie...a ferocious shove and evil laughter) than probably needed, I mailed off the last payment to Lola's old pediatrician. The very same one who for months and months and visit after visit, told us there was NOTHING wrong with Lola.
In fact, the very same week she was admitted to Primary Children's, Jason and I had both taken Lola to see him. Had urged him that something was wrong. Had walked away defeated. Had cursed him as we returned to the car, knowing the 2.5 minutes of his time was a waste of ours.
I've held off paying this bill off, making my little tiny dents to it month after month, partially due to the fact I didn't feel he deserved any of our money. And this was my way of "sticking it to the man". Yeah...effective.
So this month...I shook down the couches, scoured under the beds, tore apart the cars and raided our change jar (actually it's an Elvis Guitar) in order to come up with enough to finally be done with him.
And it feels good.
Not quite as good as it might if I actually had the ability to say the things that are floating around my head. But that's one of my main flaws...my entire life, when I've been walked on/stomped/beat up/degraded...I've never been able to actually say what needed to be said. Instead, I'd take it. And then go around pretending to be tough.
But all the same...it felt good to be done with that chapter of the story so we can move forward. Move forward knowing that Lola is in INCREDIBLE hands now with her new peditrician. And look forward to our year of HOPE.
1 comment:
OH can I tell you how I loathe some doctors. When Natalie had the croup and couldn't breath, I took her into the ER. The doc gave her a breathing treatment and then sent us home with no meds. I was back into urgent care the next morning. Two weeks later we get a bill for $600.00 from the ER. I wanted to scream. I am still tempted to write a really nasty note to the ER stating that they didn't fix the problem. I'm so ticked.
Christin
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