A Jen Too Many

You'd be hearing the cries of anguish wherever in the world you might be, except that I am utterly speechless with horror at the latest turn of events in our lives.

We have to find a new pediatrician.

I love our pediatrician. Big fluffy pink hearts luuuv her. She is wonderful. She never treats me like an idiot when I make an appointment based only on two days worth of sore throat complaints and a hunch*. She didn't bawl me out even a little bit when I confessed the girls were behind on their vaccinations and we needed to catch up on, oh, maybe the last two years worth of shots? She makes time to fit us in when I have a wee one who starts showing symptoms of pink eye at 7 p.m. on a Friday night. She is kind, she is patient, she takes time to explain things to me. I adore her. I rave about her to anyone I know who's looking for a pediatrician.

And I can't go there anymore.

*heavy sobbing*

I got a letter from the insurance company today, confirming that Oldest Girl Child and Youngest Girl Child have a new Primary Care Manager as of December 9, 2008.

News to me, since I'd never asked for a new one.

With the pathetic hope that somewhere a computer had screwed up, I called the pediatrician, and was told the office manager would call me back. I called the insurance company, and was told that our pediatrician is no longer part of the network. No-one could tell me why. Did she get tired of dealing with my insurance company? Did they decide she didn't meet their standards? I don't know, and I don't care. I just want her back!

The insurance company's Provider Directory search says that the nearest pediatrician is 14.59 miles from me "as the crow flies" and should take a mere 37 minutes to drive there. Google Maps, realizing that I am not a crow, assures me that the actual distance is 17 miles, all of it on a back road that has taken to putting on airs and calling itself a state highway. I've been to that town, driving that road. That road makes a snake look like a surveyor's line. I was scared to go the speed limit - and that was in the middle of the summer. I wouldn't be caught dead on that road in the winter.

The next closest pediatrician is supposedly 15.3 miles away. Reality: 23.3 miles, on a (real) state highway. Google assumes I will be able to go the legal posted speed limit and estimates 31 minutes to get there. I know there is a) construction on that road and b) it is one of the major routes to the local Big Employer. I estimate closer to an hour, longer at rush hour when traffic has been known to completely stop.

The third, fourth, and fifth options are all in the same practice. They are 16.63 miles away (Google says: 22 miles) but a lot faster to get to, since they are a straight shot up the freeway.**

All the possibilities, including those further down the list, work out about the same - a minimum 30 or 40 minute drive. Our current pediatrician is 7 minutes away. And we like her. She is local. And wonderful. My children get excited to see her even when they are sick. They are good for her when she gives them shots.

But - I can't afford her without insurance and I can't do anything about my insurance, because I found out about this two weeks after open season closed. I can't increase our flexible savings account withdrawals for the same reason, so I can't even afford to use the out-of-network provider option. I have to find a new pediatrician. It's enough to make a woman start swearing.

Oh, and the new PCM the insurance company assigned my children to? My doctor. Not a pediatrician. Also not accepting new patients. Speechless. I am absolutely speechless and reduced to incomprehensible noises.

Gaaaaaahhhh!
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*I was right - it was strep.

**Since we live close to the state line, they are actually out of state for us - not such a big deal, I suppose, but I do try to keep my money local. But that's another post.