Just Make an Appointment Already!

From the ages of 6 years old to 12 years old (roughly), I had to be schlepped up to Augusta, dumped in the back parking lot of the Old Kennebec Pediatric parking lot, taken up the clanky elevator to the second floor, so that I could get a dose of allergy shots. I did this every. three . weeks. It sucked big time, but so does being allergic to dust, grass, hay, animals with fur, pollen, trees, and the list continues on, so hey do what you gotta do right. In the time I spent sitting in the “well” section of the doctors office, looking at my face through the curvy, change-your-appearance mirror, and staring blankly out the window at the rivah, I really grew to hate going to the doctors. This is not due to the care I received there, which was great. I only had the one time, when a nurse held my allergy shot in my arm for twenty five seconds (I know I counted) and then pulled it out after I coughed and sneezed loudly, that scarred me up a little bit. Needless to say, as a grown adult, who has spent her childhood getting allergy shots and then growing up to have a preemie who spent three months at the hospital, I tend to avoid going to the doctors like the plague. I am technically a patient at Gardiner Family, and that is purely in the technical sense, like my name is in the system, but underneath everyone else’s name and then in a deleted folder in an expired version of Microsoft word. To be fair, Gardiner Family changes doctors like most people change their underwear. If you decide to go there, cool, just don’t get attached to anyone. I tend to really latch onto people and then when they leave in two months, I am devastated beyond belief. I do appreciate Andy Guppy that works there and has consistently for a few years. He is patient, he wears suspenders, he always leans forward when you are talking like he really wants to hear what you have to say, even if one of your symptoms is sore legs after a leg workout. I also think as Moms, we tend to put our own appointments last because we have to first make the orthodontist, dentist, IEP, 504, haircut appointments for our kids. I am guilty of this as well. It’s a problem, I’m working on it, sorta kinda.

Which brings me to my next point, which is in the month of October I noticed that my right ear was getting a little bit clogged. I kept having the sensation when I stood up quickly, like I was just coming up from doing three front flips in a swimming pool and it was full of water. I ignored it as I do most problems and it became increasingly more uncomfortable. In the mornings, I would wake up and have to massage my whole ear until I felt a snap, crackle, pop and then I still couldn’t hear out of it properly . I was having trouble at work experiencing vertigo and headaches and having to read the lips of my students instead of being able to hear them properly. It wasn’t until I couldn’t hear myself sing I’m Every Woman by Whitney Houston, that I finally said okay enough is enough and made an appointment. At this time, Gardiner Family had moved away from their location on Dresden Ave and moved into a big fancy office on Brunswick Ave, complete with a front desk that draws sunlight so bright, the front office staff would never know if they were being robbed, audited, or being offered takeout because they can’t see anything anyway. Once admitted, I sat down in the vast waiting room and looked around for my turn to enter Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Forty minutes later, I was still waiting. It turns out Guppy was popular that day and would I mind seeing a different provider? Readers, at this point, I would have gone to VIP if someone would have told me they could help me with my ear. I was taken into a room and checked in by a nice but confused nurse who documented all of my symptoms. “So you have an ear infection.” she asked. “No.”

“So you want us to check your hearing”

“Also, no”

By the time a gal entered, I was so excited to see someone , I didn’t care who it was. She might have been a custodian, perhaps some sort of inner spy stealing OxyContin out of the supply room for all I knew. I had never seen her before at that office, but that didn’t mean much , because I go once every three years. I could feel her nerves once she entered, but I am the queen of getting people to feel less nervous, so I told her of my ear trouble and she said she needed another pair of hands to help her with this procedure. I knew at this point, if she wasn’t a custodian, she was a newbie and had only ever seen this procedure performed on video and she was sexting her boyfriend at the time so couldn’t really remember all the steps. She left and came back with just herself, but perspiring a little more. She then draped a thin paper towel over my new Stitch Fix sweater and said we would need to flush my ear out. That sounded like a hellacious ordeal, but I was desperate so I nodded eagerly. She then got a maroon container , I guess to catch the water flow and some kind of tube to push water in. It seemed strange to me, that we were just flushing it with water. The smart part of my brain thought , shouldn’t it sterile saline or something? But whatever. The first time, she pushed the water in, I felt and heard nothing, that is how clogged my ear was. But then instantly, all of the water, ran down my new sweater, instead of the maroon container and she apologized instantly for the wet t-shirt contest. She then proceeded to try four more times, in which nothing was dislodged from my ear, just Niagara Falls running down my top. I think she thought me the sort of girl to complain about my wet top or the time it was taking for her to play this super soaker game. Nawww boo, we good. After several attempts, she told me, she would have to stop, because of my discomfort. I told her I was so desperate to hear out of that right ear again, to listen to Ja Rule in my car, that I didn’t care if she had to stand at the opposite end of the room and use a pressure washer to dislodge whatever the f had taken hold of my ear canal. With renewed vigor, she finally tried one more time and behold I heard a snap, crackle pop and then a rush of water and air flow through that ear like never before. I would have embraced that doctor if I felt like she would have taken a hug. She then proceeded to show me the inner demon that had been the culprit and I won’t describe it here for those of you sweet beings that have a weak stomach, but it was a sight to behold. You could tell it had resided there for MONTHS and not just a week and a half. As I left that office, with a sopping wet top, a bright red ear and a 150 dollar bill, I resolved to stop putting my own appointments at the end of the to-do list and start putting me at least somewhere towards the middle. As for that medical gal that treated me, well she earned her paycheck that day and then some.