I learned some dreadful news the other day.
Apparently, there’s been a terrible break up. And it happened to some of my favorite people.
What went wrong?
Did they grow apart? Was it a fight over money? Did someone get wooed away?
The worst part is, I only found out about it when I read it in the Sunday newspaper. Nobody told me. I missed all the signs.
My ob-gyn practice is splitting up!
I’m sick over it!
If it were my primary care practice, that I hardly know anyway, then pfft—who cares—easy come, easy go. I go there, what, once a year, maybe twice if I come down with a bad somethin’ somethin’ that requires antibiotics (and even then, they might not gimme any…grrr. What’s up with that, btw? I see all these news reports about junkies trolling from doctor to doctor for Oxy-Contin and I can’t even score some flipping Penicillin when I’m splayed out in my argyle socks and paper gown on the exam table! We’ve covered this….Would I really waste valuable babysitting to limp to the doctor and strip down if I didn’t mean business?)
But my ob office? Say it ain’t so! Despite their terrible taste in magazines (as noted in my first post, “My vacation… to the dentist”), I genuinely loved them all. They saw me through my last two pregnancies, and did so in good humor (although, don’t you have to have a sense of humor to do that job….eeek) and in good shoes (plaid Danskos….me likie!)
I often thought, “If I could have passed Anatomy and Physiology, didn’t want to hurl at the sight of blood and thought working nights, weekends and holidays would be super fun, I would SO want to work here!” I know. And people say doctors get paid too much? Eeeehhhh.
From what I gleaned in the paper (talk about being in the know…not), three docs are splitting off to a new office and three are staying put. My doctor is staying with two of the doctors from my original practice, but the two doctors who delivered my last two sons are going to a new office with another doc from the office. (My actual doctor never ended up delivering any of my kids because she was never on call when the time came. Or, because she was afraid. But there’s absolutely no proof of that!)
What to do, what to do?
My husband doesn’t understand my quandary. I called him all in a flux about the big break up!
“What’s the problem?” he asked. “You should stay with your doctor. She’s been nothing but great to us since we joined the practice. I feel like she really went out of her way to help us when we were having trouble getting pregnant and then was so awesome while we were pregnant.”
“I know. I am not disagreeing with you. She’s wonderful. But the other doctors actually delivered our sons and were also really helpful to me during my pregnancies and I love them too! And, they’re on our home movies!” I (might have) shrieked.
“Remember the last delivery? When we thought I’d gotten there too late for the epidural, so they gave me that drug that made me kind of cuckoo? (read: high) I think it was called….. I dunno, something evil… I just can’t remember the name of it because….I think I was…. high?….but anyway, remember, the doc and all the nurses and I were all peeing our pants laughing (me literally, sorry tmi) because after I delivered the baby, the doc told me to put him on my chest…. and instead of lifting up my gown, I tried to stuff the baby down the neck opening of my gown and she couldn’t breathe and choked, “I didn’t mean to stuff him down your shirt!”, and I was all like, ‘Just say no to drugs,kids!’ We all TOTALLY bonded!” P.S. Apparently mother’s instincts are NOT inherent.
That is not someone you just dump!
Truthfully, I’m 99.9% sure (that’s what the package insert says, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!) we aren’t having any more kids. So my trips to the ob from here on in are probably likely reduced to the yearly pap smear visit. (Hap-py birthday to me!) So, even if they all stayed together for the sake of the patients, I’d only see my own doctor anyway.
And, I guess I know deep down none of these doctors probably really remember who I am. They see hundreds of pregnant mamas every week and I can’t even hazard a guess on how many babies a year they deliver. But kudos to all of them for making me feel like I, and my baby, came first. That’s rare I think, and not something to sneeze at. I know I’m not alone in my estimation of them, and I hope they know that, even as they splinter (sniff, sniff.)
But still, I’m very sad about the break up.
Do you think they’d consider a shared custody agreement?