Yesterday, Noah had a doctor's appointment with an orthopaedic specialist. I knew it was going to be a bad experience when we made the appointment months ago.
I get up and get ready early, I pack the diaper bag, I feed the baby so she will sleep the entire time we are out, and I get the kids in the car. I hurt my back getting the "double wide" into the back of the truck...it has to weigh 100 lbs. The whole drive over I am thinking about how I am going to qualify for a loan to pay for the gas for this trip because I had to drive all the way to Baldwin Park. I am also starting to panic thinking about how I am going to maneuver Big Mama and park her in the claustrophobic parking structure. Please Lord, let there be a parking space outside. We arrive and I find a parking space outside and 2 miles from the building (whatever it takes to avoid the parking structure with my massive truck). By the time I unload the kids and the stroller and take the journey to the building, my newborn is screaming her head off and drawing lots of concerned looks my way. Not to mention I have arm pit stains from the sweat I have worked up and the perspiration is beginning to drip from my forehead as well. We check in at 11:00, his appointment is at 11:15. My baby is still screaming and Noah doesn't want to be next to her so he is screaming to get out. I take Noah out and let him run around and I feed the baby again so people will stop staring at me. Bad idea. I have a kid attached to my boob and I am trying to keep Noah from eating the leaves off the plants in the waiting room. I finish feeding Maia but she is still screaming. Finally, one hour later they take us back into a tiny room for another 30 minutes. I am trying to keep Noah from touching anything and from going out of the room while trying to keep Maia happy. After about 15 minutes, I gave up. I let Noah touch whatever he went for and let him escape the room and run down the halls all the while Maia was screaming. I figured they would get really irritated with us and send the doctor in so that we would get out of there. We finally saw the doctor at 12:40. She said that there is really nothing she could do for Noah's feet. He will eventually grow out of it or will just be flat footed. I wanted to strangle her and tell her, "Do you realize what I just went through for you to tell me that my visit was pointless? You better do surgery or something to make this worth my while, dang it!"
I am now broke, sore, and in need of some pills.