I hate looking for a new pediatrician. It reminds me too much of dating.
And I thought when I got pregnant I could be done with that awful, awkward, consistently disastrous scene.
Our pediatrician is moving to a new practice that does not take our insurance. We are being dumped due to our medical coverage. That’s a break-up line I’ve never been given before. “It’s not you, dear – it’s your HMO.”
I’m acting strong, but it’s just a facade. We would take him back in a heartbeat. I’m trying to resist being bitter.
Making a list of desirable traits in a pediatrician reads like an eHarmony ad:
“Looking for a good match. Kind, good listener, available for long talks even in the middle of the night. We understand you will need to see other people, as long as we remain a priority. Must love kids.”
That should be a given. A pediatrician who doesn’t like kids sends up a giant red flag.
Even if the perfect pediatrician rides up on a white horse, you then have to worry about being a good girlfriend – I mean, patient.
You want to ask the right quest-ions, so they know you are interested (in your child’s health).
You don’t want to appear too clingy, so you avoid calling at every little sneeze or runny nose.
And even though you know as a doctor he must be pulling in a nice paycheck, you still end up paying the bill every time you see each other.
I am a long-term- commitment-kind of mom. When we choose to let someone into our medical records, we expect them to be there for the long haul.
The next pediatrician we meet will hear my honest plea.
“We are looking for something real. Not just a twice-a-year kind of thing.
“We need someone who will be there when we call, someone we can grow with and who knows how to ease our fears and worries.
“Are you that person?”
If security doesn’t escort me from the office, we might have a winner.