Apparently, children, especially of the infantile variety, do strange things like puke and poop a multitudinous pallet of colors that completely bewilders the mind when compared to the monochromatic stuff that actually went into them. Supposedly, this mystical ability to transmogrify infant formula into liquids and solids across the spectrum can, in certain situations, be indicative of, or predict health, sickness and various other conditions.This of course begs the question: can the emesis of babies be examined and interpreted to find the winning lotto numbers? Stay tuned. I'm sure the answer will befall us.
You may wonder why one would suddenly be interested in poop health, and if you'll shut the hell up and quit interrupting, I'll tell you. According to our research, and the demands of the Maternal Birth-Nerd, it became necessary for us to find a pediatrician. Simple enough right? Not so much.
As soon as you realize you need something, and that there are numerous choices, you find yourself instantaneously plagued with the fear of choosing the wrong one! This is quite an alien feeling for me as I make decisions for a living. Aside from making decisions that sway millions of dollars and profoundly affect people's lives, I decide things like what I want for dinner, what I want to wear to work, and whether or not to take a break now, or try and hold it until I get home.
There are even lots of people that depend on me to make decisions for them or about them, like the marketer who asked what I thought about her look to which I responded, "Sweetheart, the hair, the ankle-length denim? Honestly, you look like a Pentecostal. Can we at least do something fashionable with a haircut and some accessories"? In hindsight, the decision to recommend a few changes was correct and warranted. The decision to make a comparison, probably not - seeing as how, unbeknownst to me she was a Pentecostal. WHOOPS! Open mouth, insert politically incorrect foot.
Anywho, lots of decisions. These don't typically prove difficult, but as with any decision, the endless research ensues. A brief consultation with the all-knowing interweb as interpreted by the metatron Google, reveals a plethora of pediatric people from which to choose.
Search terms like, "how to choose a pediatrician", generated countless lists, each with their own criteria. One thing I've learned though my years in healthcare is that you want doctors that are board-certified. Nowadays it may be tougher to find someone restricting their practice to pediatrics that isn't board-certified. Nonetheless, you'll want to be sure to avoid taking your child to a doctor who just got tired of doing breast implants and Botox and swapped out the sign on their door. Besides Babies would just look weird with the Hollywood frozen face.A board-certified pediatrician means the doctor completed high-school, four years of college, passed the MKAT (entrance exam), then four years of medical school, then 3-5 years of residency in their chosen specialty, like pediatrics. They've also passed numerous exams along the way to get their license. They're also required to complete hours of continuous education each year to keep both their license and board certification.
Damn, I should've been a doctor. Had I known where my surplus education was taking me early on, I probably would've been. Probably would still, but the Spousal Unit has forbade me from the pursuit of further education for fear that my brain will SPLODE (and probably because he misses me when I'm a bookworm).
Ok, so board-certified. Next, distance. Let's face it, no parent (maybe with the exception of my mother) who is sleeping a couple of hours a night is going to want to have to get up, get dressed, pack-up, and travel to a remote doctor at the end of a 500-mile yellow-brick road, only to find out they were dreaming the whole damn time and Auntie Em was really there all along.
So we decided to begin our search with board-certified pediatricians within a ten-mile radius of home. We found the healthgrades website which helped. The parameters help narrow search results.
Since our chosen doctor will likely be following the Progenal Unit (yes, my word) until she is much older, we didn't want a doctor who had already aged enough for their face to look like a scrotum with eyes, which would no doubt cause her to run screaming from the exam room. It wasn't all about looks, as it was also important that we be able to relate from a generational perspective with him/her.We also hoped to find someone a little bit nerdy, like us. Nerds are good peoples. Next, we went to the Texas Medical Board's website and researched the licensure of the few that we'd narrowed it down to. We zeroed in on just a couple that we wanted to interview in person.
Next we compiled a long list of questions from the almighty interweb and our own values. We reviewed the questions and decided on the answers we wanted to hear from the doctor prior to hearing the doctors answers. The healthcare executive side of me wanted to pick apart the business of the practice to ensure fiscal responsibility and solvency. The nurse side of me wanted to delve into the standards of care and compliance. In the end, the adoptive parent side of me had me all squishy and receptive. Totally weird.
The first test was an email to the practice to inquire about a meeting with the physician of choice, Dr. Chowning of Alliance Pediatrics. Of note, I think it would be AWSEOME TO THE MAX if he changed the 'H' to an 'L', but then I recall children on the playground calling me Byron "Pounds" instead of Bounds and wonder if he endured similar torment. Better keep that thought to myself.
The email signature, "Thanks, Byron and Jonathan Bounds", would give us a chance to say, "Hey, we're adoptive parents, and we're same-sex adoptive parents". Yes, we know the world has grown up a lot, but you never know when a doctors office or, say, a fast-food chicken sandwich chain will voice their opposition to your family. And to Chick-fil-a, learn to spell your logo, you dumb bastards - it's Chicken Fillet.
Surprisingly, the response to our email was not only immediate, but an exuberant warmth seemed to exude from Terri's words (the gal who replied). Of those emailed, Dr. Chowning's office was the only that replied. Family acceptance test: CHECK, Responsiveness test: CHECK.
We made an appointment according to Terri's directions and went by the practice after hours. It looked cute as a button, smelled clean, and I didn't notice cobwebs. Cobwebs are a sign of complacency! Also, despite having droves of children through each day, the books and magazines were surprisingly straight and organized. Appearances test: CHECK.
Then we got to visit with Dr. Chowning. Nerdiness test: CHECK.
He was awesome. Despite our preparedness, it was an experience that made me a bit nervous. This is weird, because I don't do nervous. Dr. Chowning was in no hurry. He answered all of our questions as though he had been prompted for the interview beforehand. He appeared green enough to be passionate but learned and experienced enough to handle whatever, especially since he has FOUR CHILDREN of his own! He's only a year or two older than I am which means his parenting experience will be fairly relevant to ours.
When we were satisfied with his answers and what we could glean of his character of the brief encounter, we decided to end the meeting, but had a distinct feeling he would have liked it to be longer. Again, this is weird. Most docs are in a hurry and of a mind to give little credence to your inherent lack superior knowledge. Dr. Chowning was weird. Weird is kickass!
Pediatrician found: CHECK!
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