Waiting

Last Wednesday, we took Henry in to meet with a geneticist to discuss his development, progress, and evaluate the necessity for a blood test.  They attempted to draw blood from him, but his veins weren't cooperating so they ended up sticking him twice to no avail, all while he's screaming and looking up at Lori with that look of "why can't you make this stop?"

It was heartbreaking.

The nurse came back with an order to make an appointment for the next day or two to try again.  We got him calmed down and packed up, and headed back to the front desk.  That was when the fun of misaligned communication & training in the medical administration field reared its face.

I handed the draw order to the person at the desk, assuming that she would be able to read the order and understand that we need an appointment to come back.  We were immediately met with a "we don't make appointments here.  You have to call this number and they'll schedule it."

I politely argued that the nurse in the back personally stated that we were to come back up front to make arrangements for "The Nurse" to do the blood draw.  The woman with whom I was speaking even turned to her colleague to ask what she should do, and her colleague even confirmed that I needed to possibly go downtown for additional procedures, and that because the doctor had gone to lunch, they couldn't confirm the order right away.

I nearly snapped, and Lori saw the tension in me reach stratospheric levels.  I again reiterated that the nurse who tried to draw Henry's blood specifically said we needed to make this appointment that day so that I could come back to that facility.  The woman said she would go talk to her.

5 minutes later, she returned and wordlessly began typing at her terminal.  We got an appointment for the next day at 3:20pm.  I curtly thanked them and we left.

That was when Lori mentioned that my tolerance limit for miscommunications was at an end, despite my traditionally superhuman levels of patience.

I returned the next day with Henry, determined to put the previous day behind me and be more pleasant.  This experience went much more smoothly as the pediatric nurse was able to draw Henry's blood much more easily.  Sure, he screamed, but it subsided rather quickly after we were done.

So his samples are off to testing, and we wait another week or so to confirm that he has Fragile X.  At this rate, I can't realistically or logically believe it's anything else, especially after speaking with the geneticist and the genetic counselor.