Don’t you like to do certain things, like, once, and then leave it be and be done forever? I have been patronizing the same dentist since my graduate school dental insurance kicked in in 2002. I had a decent pediatrician for the girls and then she ZOOP up and moved to California a couple of years ago with no notice. I know they’re not required to send one, but a letter would have been nice. My experience with the girls’s doctor since then has been a little uneven, to say the least.

I like the clinic, because it’s a small practice in a small building, and you see the same people every time. The old place was GIANT MEDICAL CONGLOMERATE THING and felt pretty impersonal. The first year went pretty swimmingly, and then things got a little weird. Last Christmastime Strudel got really sick for a really long time, and her symptoms were a little weird. I took her to the doctor, who suggested a tuberculosis test, which, fine, because there is a small outside chance that was what it could be. I like non-risky, better-safe-than-sorry testing. We were supposed to read the results of the scratch test on her arm a couple of days after, which would have been a Saturday. The girls’ doctor offered to meet us at the office, though it was closed that day, and take a quick peek at her arm. We agreed upon ten a.m. and she was a no-show. I Dr. Googled the results and guessed it was negative, and we spoke on the phone later. Nothing came of it, but a TB test can make a person a wee bit panicky, and to have a no-show…I thought then about switching and then thought better of it–maybe I was being hasty.

I was given a vaccine printout a few months ago and I saw that our old address was on it. The PA had me look over their records for us. “We’ve got this terrible duplicate record thing happening, because the practice changed ownership recently,” she explained. Hmm.

I took Franny in for a vaccine in October and we were sent to our typical exam room to wait. It has a fish hanging from the ceiling made from an old CD that has had fish features markered onto it and fins taped on. I can always hear a radio turned to talk radio playing softly somewhere, but only from that room. The PA walked in abruptly, as she always does. Lately she has been covering her facial tattoos with foundation.

“Well. Where is it?” she asked. We were confused. If we found the vaccine syringe would we get a prize? Franny glanced at me for a clue.

“Where’s…what?” she said.

“The wart,” the PA said.

“We’re here for a vaccine,” I said.

“Oh dear,” she said, and went out again.

I got a call a couple of weeks ago asking us if we had changed our address since a piece of mail had bounced back to their office. It was my old address–the old duplex that we have not lived in since moving in July 2010.

Today I got a call about “Strudel’s appointment tomorrow,” which I found a little distressing, since Franny is the one who has the appointment tomorrow. I called them shortly after they left a message.

“Hello, this is SJ I am returning your call about–”

“Strudel’s appointment?”

“Yes, but Franny is the one with the appointment.”

“Ohhh.”

“I was wondering if she could be seen for an injury on her foot tomorrow? I know the doctor wasn’t supposed to see her,” I said.

“Sure, how about 11:30?”

“Great, can her vaccine she was supposed to have be rolled into that appointment?” I asked.

“She’s not supposed to get the HPV until she’s 12.”

“Well, here’s the thing, she already HAD the first one, and this appointment was for the SECOND one, and I was hoping she could have both her foot looked at as well as the vaccine.”

“Okay, we’ll see you at 11:30!”

I assume they will be seeing Strudel tomorrow at 3 for a burst appendix.