Today we paid a visit to the wondertwin's ophthalmologist.
It made me want to gouge me eyes out. Hence, negating the need for an eye doctor.
Only, removing MY eyes with a sharp object would not omit our need for a PEDIATRIC ophthalmologist. I would need to remove the wondertwin's eyeballs for that, and I just don't think I have the stomach for it.
Plus. That would make them blind. And it would be infinitely harder for Big J to dress himself according to social norms (he is already challenged there). And L would forever roam the house in search of one petite bowling pin kitty. So in the end, that would be a bad decision.
EVEN THOUGH IT WOULD SAVE ME THE TWO HOURS I SPEND THERE EVERY YEAR.
Oh, I hate that office. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
Here's how it went today:
Appointment at 9:30. We arrive at 9:26...a small miracle.
The receptionist looks us up, asks if we still live at the same address...and then proceeds to hand me paperwork, which requires me to fill in THE EXACT SAME ADDRESS I JUST CONFIRMED. Not just once, but twice...because they are twins.
Hand receptionist my insurance card.
Oh, she says. No co-pay. The doctor requires a $45 patient payment upfront for us non-copayers. Which, I might add, TOTALLY SCREWS US ON THE BENEFIT OF NOT HAVING A CO-PAY.
Now. I didn't pick a fight over the ridiculous paperwork. But here I got a *little* feisty. Did I mention I HATE this place?
"Well, she says, most plans like this have a really high deductible, so chances are you'll be paying out of pocket for it anyway, and we'll credit the $45 to that," she says.
"Great lady! Except we own premature twins and have already racked up two surgeries this year--so let me guarantee you that our deductible is met! And then some! Which makes our health care from here to December 31st F-R-E-E!," is my response (this would be the reason we are visiting every doctor known to man in the next 3 weeks).
"I know, I'm sorry, it's just his policy," she says. Okay. I don't hate the lady. Just her sucky office. Oh, and the $90 CO-PAY. Because they are twins.
Here's where we wait 40 minutes.
Since we arrived (EARLY), one other kid has walked through the door. And already been escorted back to have his eyeballs prodded. He waited 5 minutes and got an apology. I filled out redundant paperwork, got screwed on my insurance and not one iota of sympathy.
Eye exams, lots of questions.
"Do you have their glasses?"
Nope. They've been broken for quite some time. But it's taken months for me to mentally gear up to come back in here.
Doc comes in. Takes a looksey. Declares that he needs to dilate their eyes for a closer look. Drops take about a half an hour to set in. Of course! Because it's 10:50 and I have TOTALLY allotted half a day for an EYE DOCTOR appointment. We even own these drops at home and ASK repeatedly if we need to put them in before we arrive.
Here is where I state my case that we NEED to move it along.
To which he asks what I need to do.
WHAT I NEED TO DO?
Clean the bathrooms, do the laundry, figure out Christmas cards, unpack, sort the laundry, make my bed, make my kids beds, vacuum, go to Hobby Lobby, blog surf, load the dishwasher, wipe the table, feed the dog, fold the laundry, water the Christmas tree, return some emails, get a haircut, go to the grocery store, cut my toenails, read People Magazine, clean our basement, create some unnecessary craft, eat something, feed someone, help with homework. Pick your poison and throw in some kind of vomit for good measure.
And let's not forget. School for Big J and L begins in 70 minutes. And before that happens, they need to return home and be fed. Oh, and have their eyes dilated.
It appears that school is a solid enough reason for the doc to cut this visit short, at 120 minutes. He seemed to move it a tad bit faster than his normal turtle speed, just in time to send us on our way at 11:30.
But now, we are done for the year. And I have their prescriptions in hand, which means it's possible I won't have to enter the place where Satan dwells on earth (ophthalmologist's office) again for, maybe, 2 years. If I can limit the amount the twin's heads grow (thereby making their glasses fit for a solid 24 months), we will be in good shape.