There are four doctors in this practice. Have been for the past 15 years. Although some of the names have changed, the number has remained constant. Four doctors each with their own individual office. And strangely enough, the doctor we see now is in the exact same individual office as the very first doctor we started seeing when we first moved here. Although that particular doctor is long gone. Moved to the US, I believe. Make of that what you will.
I never realized until today how many memories you can have tied up in one doctor's office. When the Blue Jay was younger, she would end up in the hospital four times per year for roughly two weeks at a time with clusters of seizures. Yep, exactly four times per year. We actually got it down to quite a system courtesy of her neurologist at the regional children's hospital. Wait for two or three seizures to cluster before taking her to the Emergency Room at the local hospital. Go up with a big packed for both of us, with pyjamas and such and a few books to read (knowing she would always have to be admitted), but leave it in the car until she was. Wouldn't want to look too
One time when the Blue Jay was around 3 or 4, I took her up to Emerg, as per the usual course, with her seizures. The Emerg doctor didn't have a clue about this kid. And refused to listen. I told him that she needed to be admitted. That she would take 40-80 seizures over the course of a week. I told him what drug she needed. He had never heard of it. I insisted that this was the only one that would touch her seizures, that this was all what her neurologist told us to do. He remained skeptical. And it wasn't until the seizures really started to cluster that he tried to go find the med. Knowing what was coming and having forgotten the ever-present bag, I told the nurses I had to run home for a minute but would be right back. Fortunately we are only about a five minute drive from the hospital. I went home, grabbed some stuff and a coffee through the drive through (knowing it would be a long day and night) and went back to the hospital.
The doctor came over and told me to take the Blue Jay home. He had given her the med and she was knocked out cold, which is what it did to her, being a central nervous system depressant. I tried to tell him (again) that she had to be admitted, but he refused. He was not going to admit no kid with epilepsy just because she was having seizures. We argued for a bit but being young(er) and naive(r) then, I finally gave up. I knew the med would only work temporarily and then she would need more. I knew we were also told it wasn't safe to give it to her at home because she needed to be monitored when taking it. I knew this brilliant professional had just given a young child a drug he admittedly knew nothing about and was now determined to send her home. His work here was done. I knew all this. But I wasn't going to get anywhere with this turkey.
So I picked up my stuff and the kid (total and complete dead weight), struggled with her to the car and drove down to our family doctor's office. Carried the Blue Jay in, still unconscious, and explained to the nurse what had happened. Turns out our family doctor was actually at the hospital, assisting with an operation. So they made a bed for the Blue Jay with blankets and a pillow on the floor of our doctor's office while they tried to get ahold of her. Eventually they did. And I was told to take the Blue Jay back up to the hospital.
Gee, why hadn't I thought of that? We should go back to the hospital. Where the pediatrician (who knew the Blue Jay well but who the friendly neighbourhood Emerg doc had refused to call) would meet us. So off we went. Back up to the hospital. Back in through Emerg. Past the pediarician and the
Today I was at the doctor's office with Mom. In one of those strange unplanned twists of fate, Mom's current doctor shares a practice with my doctor. Who uses the very same office as that first doctor. So we were sitting in the waiting room today. Waiting, of course. And I looked around the room, at the newborn baby, at the little kids playing with the blocks in the corner ... and over to my mother sitting beside me. Looking very old right at that moment. And very frail. And thought about how strange it was. How far we had come, in a sense. Only to have come back, full circle.