Today was my first appointment with the midwives. I’d been calling my OB for a week to try to get my chart faxed over, they were closed every day at 1pm for God knows what reason. Today, I got up early and called. They weren’t open, yet. When I did get a hold of them, the conversation with the new receptionist went something like this:

“I need you to fax over my records.”
“You’ll need to sign a release.”
“I already did. It’s in my chart.”
“Oh. Well, when was that?”
“A month or so ago.”
“I wasn’t here a month or so ago so I wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“The release is already signed, it should be in my chart. There shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Let me see if they scanned it into the computer………Hmmm, nope…….Hold on, let me check your chart……………………..You don’t have a chart.”
“What? I was just there last week for my glucose test.”
“I can’t find your chart. You’re going to have to come in and sign that paper again.”
“Well, how would that help if there’s no chart to release in the first place?”
“Um….I’ll have to find your chart.”

Why not look for my chart before you have me come in and re-sign a piece of paper I’ve already signed that is probably currently sitting in my chart? I hung up with her, after she said she’d look for it and call me back. I called my midwives and convinced them I really had prenatal care up until that point so they would keep my appointment. They did, but had to threaten that if they didn’t get my charts by next week, I’d have to redo all my tests. Dear Lord, no! I just got a 108 on my glucose test! Are you insane?!? That’s like asking me to redo the SATs after getting a 1500.

10 minutes later, the receptionist calls. “I found your chart. I found the release, too. What’s the name of the practice and the fax number?” WOOHOO! She promised to get it faxed over before my appointment at 3, since “we close at 1pm today, anyway.”

Bull puckey! 3pm came. I asked the receptionist, the nurse, the other nurse and the doctor, they never faxed it over! I guess it’s a good thing I’m switching because I don’t believe I could have put up with that receptionist for another 2 months. I’d end up banned from every hospital, giving birth at home with Eric screeching at me to do it in the kitchen so I don’t ruin the hardwood floors. In turn, rendering our poor child fatherless, leaving both of us on welfare and Ben in therapy for years because his mother was forced to kill father during labor. And that wouldn’t be good for anyone.