This writing is part of stream of consciousness Saturday. The idea is that you don’t plan and you don’t edit and you just write. I saw the word to use “aaaah” and immediately thought of the butterfly that I took a picture of today. https://lindaghill.com/2017/06/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-117/
I sat down to write about the aaaah of the butterfly and all that has popped into my head is “aaah MELK.” If you have ever watched Seinfeld, you have seen Jerry say with anger, and contempt “Newman.” That very way he says “Newman” keeps coming into my stream of consciousness for Dr. Melk. So in being true to my stream of consciousness I am going to write about AAAH MELK. The butterfly will need another post of her own. She deserves that.
A little over 3 years ago my daughter had a pediatrician who we really liked. She had been seeing her for years. Everything was going perfectly as pediatricians go, until my daughter got sick. Then she got sicker. And then sicker. The pediatrician said that there was nothing wrong with her. I said what were apparently the most despised and insulting words ever to be spoken to a pediatrician, “You’re wrong.” To which I got a certified letter in the mail stating that we had been removed from the practice. It was THAT SIMPLE. A week from that date we had an appointment with a specialist. I was hoping we could make it until that appointment. We couldn’t. My daughter was taken to the emergency room and hospitalized for 4 days. The hospital knew we had an appointment with a specialist on day 5 and so they released my daughter to go to the appointment.
If you have ever been in the hospital for 4 days with your child you know the haze that has dropped over everything. We hadn’t eaten. We hadn’t slept. We had that sick feeling in our stomach for our daughter rooted in fear. We were in every way shape and form fried. Yet, we got up at 6 am, and were at the appointment at 8. My husband carried my daughter in to the appointment. She was unable to walk. When we were called back, my husband carried her back to the room. I was in my motorized scooter. We waited. Then we waited some more.
Finally, in came Dr. Melk. We exchanged pleasantries because he was one of my specialists, so we knew each other. He pulled up some images on a screen. Stated why we were there to clarify. Confirmed that he had seen my husband carry my daughter in and then back to the room.
Then he informed us that he would not be seeing us.
Sleep deprived and feeling as near to fainting as possible his words did not compute. At which point I asked him, “what?”
He told us in THE most arrogant egotistical I AM GOD way, that he had learned of us getting “kicked out” of the pediatrician’s office. (I was actually never kicked out of anywhere. I left her office not knowing what would befall us until the letter).He went on to say that we lived in a small town. His allegiance was to the pediatrician. He said we would find it hard to find a doctor that would see us now. I asked him if he knew we had just come from the hospital. He said yes. I asked him why, if he was not going to see us, did he not just call us on the phone. We were permitted to leave the hospital JUST TO SEE HIM. He thought it was best if he told us in person. I looked at my daughter. Pale, weak, unable to stand. I looked at Dr. Melk. I said, “Can we leave?” He said no one was keeping us there. I asked if we were getting charged. Nope. I had to ask someone, anyone to open the door for me so I could zip out in my scooter. My husband carried our daughter out and to the car. That man, no he doesn’t deserve that title, that individual, allowed us to leave a hospital, drive our sick child all the way there, just to tell us he woudnl’t actually see us. What kind of animal, no I can’t say that because I love animals, what kind of individual does something like that? He enjoyed what he did. He loved every minute of it.
We sat in the car. What was there to say. What was there to do. I wanted to scream louder and harder than I had ever wanted to in my life. I wanted to sob. I couldn’t do any of these things. My gravely ill daughter was sitting in the back seat of the car having no idea what had just happened, knowing we were about to go home with no answers, and that we were all too exhausted to shed one tear over it.
AAAH Dr. Melk. AAAH Dr. Melk. In the last 3 years I have thought of that man with utter disgust. With great disdain. I have thought of him with a hatred that goes far beyond any feelings I’ve ever had over anyone who has hurt me. He purposely purposefully intentionally inflicted emotional harm on my daughter. Isn’t there a law against that. Maybe it is just a civil law. If I won the lottery tomorrow, after saving everyone that I know needs help, sending my daughter to the best clinics available, I would sue Dr. Melk. I would just love to wipe that smug look off of his face. I can still see it. Arm so easily draped over the chair, leg so casually crossed, leaning back just a tad, with that smile look on his face. He smiled as he told two parents, broken down from their daughter’s illness, and one child, that none of us mattered. He smiled at our weary, weak, fragile, desperate for answers family, and leaned back in his chair.
We did get a diagnosis for my daughter. I faxed a letter to the pediatrician to her know if she ever ran across these symptoms again, THIS is the diagnosis. I didn’t write the letter to prove that she was wrong. Wrong to kick us out when I questioned her. Wrong to send a letter in the mail. I wrote the letter so that she wouldn’t make the same mistake on another child. I wrote the letter to educate her.
I didn’t write a letter to Dr. Melk.
This has been the longest, most painful, tragic, heartbreaking 3 years of my life, that my daughter has been ill. It all began with Dr. Melk.
I wish I could forget him.
I wish I could just put him in God’s hands and know he would be dealt with accordingly. But he still pops up in my mind like tonight and with that smug face trapped in my memory comes the pain that my daughter was put through that day. Hate is not good. It is not healthy. I know this. I don’t hate all the time. Just on nights like tonight when his face pops into my mind. Hopefully after I write this it will fall back into the deep recesses of my brain and stay there another 6 months.
If only I could put him in God’s hands and just let him go.
AAAH, but Dr. Melk, I think God’s hands are not where you will be held. Just a hunch.