Confession: The Thing About Doctors

I come from a home where being sick was a almost a privilege. You had to EARN, to PROVE your state of sickness. Want to stay home from school?--Must have a legit fever. Think you need to go to the doctor?--Give it a few days. My parents are saints so they were definitely not heartless about this, but they absolutely taught us to tough it out a bit.

Outside of pregnancy visits and shots, I haven't been to the doctor for myself since I was probably 10 years old. I guess you could say that when it comes to my own health my philosophy is: "Rub some dirt on it." However, when it comes to my baby my philosophy is a little more...how do you say...liberal.

"Get me to the ER NOW!"

Since Annie was born, less than I year ago. I've been to the Doctor 5 times for regular check ups, at least 3 times outside of her normal visits, and probably 10 more than that if you count the Chiropractor. I do not care how expensive it may be, how inconvenient it may be, how totally unnecessary it may be...if my child is showing the smallest sign of the most insignificant issue--my knee-jerk reaction is: "To the doctor!" So much for my tough-it-out upbringing.

It's amazing how irrational I've become about health. Annie has the slightest reaction to food and I immediately want an EpiPen. If she has an extra-fussy day I wonder if she's secretly battling some painful internal injury.

I'm a hypochondriac for my kid.

My most recent episode occurred when my Mother-in-Law noticed that Annie was walking kind of funny. We'd previously noticed that she was stumbling more than usual, but we thought it was just part of her development. I mean she IS a fairly early walker, thus living up to the mantra: "Our baby is SO advanced" (spoken in the most prideful voice ever). As such, we didn't think much of her stumbles until Kerry pointed out how sharply inward Annie's left foot was pointing.

YIKES!

She was walking on her foot almost as though it were a clubbed foot. Her toes pointed in, sole perpendicular to the ground, and all her weight on the outside curve of her heel. Almost as though she had stepped on something sharp or hot. I, of course, immediately start freaking out, wondering if she'd somehow injured herself, if her bones were growing incorrectly, if we didn't see a doctor quickly enough and she would have foot problems for the rest of her life...! I know that this is a very real issue that lots of families encounter so I was not about to simply "Rub some dirt in it."

I scheduled an appointment with her pediatrician for less than 48 hours later and felt like that wasn't even soon enough. What if she further injured herself? What if she learned how to walk incorrectly? What if the bones set that way and this effects the rest of her LIFE? See what I mean--totally irrational.

Here's the thing about doctors: I love them and....don't always love them.

What I Love: they know A LOT about the body, they diagnose illnesses, they prescribe appropriate treatment and medicine, they give me peace of mind.

What I don't love so much: sometimes you have to fork out a lot of cash for that "Peace of Mind." Maybe the reason my parents never took us to the doctor was because they figured out that most of the time the treatment is: keep doing what you're doing and it will get better. "Thanks, Doc! Take my money!"

Which is exactly what happened with Annie. For the third time of her very short life. I've rushed her in for eye problems, skin problems, overachieving spit-up problems. And every time the answer is: "You're doing fine mama"

Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike that diagnosis. And this is not meant to be a slam on doctors. Because, really, we'd be lost without them. I have dear friends and family members who are in the medical field and they are AMAZING. Everyone who helped deliver Annie were angels to me. I LOVE our pediatrician. This is not a dig at the doctors themselves, per se. I guess this is just me laughing at myself for being so worried that I repeatedly pay big money for the doctor to tell me I'm doing OK and not ruining or killing my child. And as a mom, that peace of mind has no price tag. So Doc, "TAKE MY MONEY!"

That's the thing about doctors. You love them and you hate paying them. You know you're going to wait for 20 minutes, see the doc for 10, get a pat on the back and a bill in the mail....but you do it anyway. Because you love your child more than money. And that's what it is to be a mom. Welcome to motherhood you poor, surrogate hypochondriac.

Oh and the diagnosis for Annie--it really is just a developmental thing. And it's already looking better. Phew. Thanks for the peace of mind, Doc.

PS. Does anyone else ever go to the doctor and magically whatever was wrong is no longer wrong for the 10 minutes that they are seeing you!? WHAT IS WITH THAT!?!?!?

What have been your mommy/doctor experiences? Am I the only hypochondriac here?