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November 18, 2005 Time for the Battle-Armour 
You may wonder, what happened in the meantime? I called the doctor and never got through. I bugged her old ped until her file was transferred to the new one. I called the new ped and got Frances a check-up appointment for December. THANKS. Very helpful. I called the opthamologist and didn't get through. I went out of town for Thanksgiving, and then to Ottawa on business. I called the opthamologist and didn't get through. I went to Winnipeg on business and then to Las Vegas. I also checked out his website, and my eyes exploded when they read the notice that emails not specifically regarding existing appointments would be deleted. I called before and after hours, and was treated to a voicemail message saying that all calls not in regards to existing appointments would be deleted. Yesterday, I finally got through to his office, and we have an appointment for tomorrow. What, you may ask, did Erik do? Not a whole lot. He was keen to point out all the ocassions where Frances's eyes crossed, and blame the opthamologist for the whole sorry mess. Can't say he called anyone or actually did anything. Oh no. Or seems to feel the slightest bit of guilt for how bad things have gotten. How bad are they, you ask? Her eyes are basically crossed 75% of the time. If she's not wearing glasses, they cross. If she's focused on something at close range, they cross. If she's not interested in what she's doing, they cross. If she's tired, they cross. If she's not feeling well, they cross. If she's engrossed in something non-visual like dinner, they cross. She also resists me when I try to encourage her. "Use both eyes, honey," I say, and use a hand to block the stronger one so that the other is forced to focus. It used to be that this would work, and her eyes would remain straight for a while. Now? She whines and cries and shakes her head. I try to make it subtle by pretending to brush her hair out of her right eye, thus blocking it, but she just waits for me to finish and her left eye stays crossed. I am so angry at Erik for being such a wuss about this. I don't care if he feels it's unmanly to make a fuss at a doctor's office. It's his fucking job as a father and he has no excuse. Frances doesn't need a daddy who the doctors all agree is a swell guy. She needs something for her eyes, and I am so sick of being the one who always has to do this work. And I'm furious at the doctor for brushing off his concern, however tentatively phrased, because I don't care whether it's only a few times a day for a few seconds--when one of your eyes falls into your nose at predictable times, it is NOT NORMAL. I'm furious that there are so few avenues for getting in touch when there is a problem, and I'm furious that there is so little opportunity for making contact during his scheduled hours. This shouldn't have taken two months. So tomorrow morning, I put on my battle armour and get ready to bust some kneecaps. Anyone want to come along? Posted by Andrea at November 18, 2005 12:41 PM under Doctors, Geneticists and Other Charlatans EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments I'm definitely in the posse. Do I have to stop at kneecaps? Posted by: Chris at November 18, 2005 1:37 PM
I'm with you, too, and I'll bring my billy-club. Posted by: Jane Dark at November 18, 2005 1:55 PM
Good for you getting the quick appointment, finally! Good luck, and I am actually close enough to join a posse if you decide that's the way to go. Is this at Sick Kids? Trying to remember if they have metal detectors. Posted by: Madeleine at November 18, 2005 2:19 PM
oooh, with all my medical history I'm really good at being forceful with doctors until they listen. Baseball bats fit down the pant leg and if you get a wooden one it won't set off a metal detector... Posted by: stephanie at November 18, 2005 2:27 PM
I'm in. You want me to bring my dad? He may not be good for much, but you'd be surprised how much more responsive doctors are when another doctor gets pissed at them. Posted by: Phantom Scribbler at November 18, 2005 2:45 PM
I got some chains and some nice solid hammers. I'm with you. GRRR. Should we start a letter writing campaign? Posted by: Running2Ks at November 18, 2005 2:48 PM
I'm sure Chad wouldn't mind me borrowing his ol' Louie, but sadly I think I'm a little out of range for a short-notice posse. Still, I obviously second the wooden baseball bat suggestion. Or, in a pinch, a nice metal umbrella works since it's a reasonable item to carry with you at all times--mine's titanium. Posted by: Christine at November 18, 2005 2:53 PM
That's what you get when you go away! I get babies! LOL! Glad you're back! Posted by: CJ Field at November 18, 2005 3:03 PM
Oh! Pick me! Pick me! Doctors NEVER suspect I'm gonna kick 'em where they live 'cause I'm so small and cute. Posted by: liz at November 18, 2005 4:02 PM
Excellent! If we all take out 1/5th of a kneecap, that doc is toast. Posted by: Andrea at November 18, 2005 4:13 PM
I'm DEFINITELY in on this one....and I have plenty of times where you can come and back me up also! Erik is your typical guy....if I ignore it then it is not really happening (oh yea, and my wife (who happens to be WONDERWOMAN) will take care of it!!). Can you tell that I have one of those in my house also? AND, if I make a stink about it he quickly tries to point out that it is all in my imagination. Let's take out the Doctors kneecaps AND the Daddy's kneecaps (no, on second thought lets leave their kneecaps because WE will have to be the ones to baby them when they need someone to take care of them:) Don't get me wrong. I love my husband, but we have had this battle numerous times and I know where you are coming from!! Posted by: angie at November 18, 2005 4:19 PM
I'm in. I'll bring my bat. Um, who's kneecaps are we busting? Just the doc? Doc and staff? Doc, Staff and telephone installation company? Doc, staff, telephone people, and then maybe lightly tap erik's knee? Whatever you kneed (ha!) me and my bat are there. Posted by: rachel at November 18, 2005 6:48 PM
Up one side and down the other! I have a permanently "lazy" eye. BTW the very best eyepatch we found were not the sticky bandaid like ones - it was a soft cloth one that slipped right onto his glassess. The sticky ones were fiends from hell. Just a thought. From a fellow Momma from Hell. Posted by: gawdessness at November 18, 2005 7:27 PM
I'm in too. How horrible! There's no way it should have been that difficult to be in touch with the office. Like Liz, I am small and harmless looking. Doc will never see us coming.... Posted by: Sue at November 18, 2005 7:30 PM
Angie--good point about the kneecaps. It can't be disabling, then. Posted by: Andrea at November 18, 2005 10:05 PM
I'll come. Seriously, I'll come. I'm probably the only one to reply who is truly in the vicinity and can come, no? Gotta love the hubby who is known to the docs as a really great guy. Mine's the same way. He's always telling me how "nice" he is, as if to say that I'm something other than "nice." Hmph. Posted by: Karyn at November 18, 2005 11:09 PM
Um, I took boxing for a while but I'm out of shape. I'm much better at being really annoying these days. I'll bring some itching powder and then hide some shrimp somewhere in the office where it won't be discovered until it really stinks. You can use any leftovers on Eric. Posted by: Marla at November 18, 2005 11:17 PM
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Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "If the writer is a socially privileged person--particularly a White or a male or both--his imagination may have to make an intense and conscious effort to realize that people who don't share his privileged status may read his work and will not share with him many attitudes and opinions that he has been allowed to believe or pretend are shared by 'everybody.' Since the belief in a privileged view of reality is no longer tenable outside privileged circles, and often not even within them, fiction written from such an assumption will make sense only to a decreasing, and increasingly reactionary, audience. Many women writing today, however, still choose the male viewpoint, finding it easier to do so than to write from the knowledge that feminine experience of reality is flatly denied by many potential readers, including the majority of critics and professors of literature, and may rouse defensive hostility and contempt. The choice, then, would seem to be between collusion and subversion; but there's no use pretending that you can get away without making a choice. Not to choose, these days, is a choice made. All fiction has ethical, political and social weight, and sometimes the works that weigh the heaviest are those apparently fluffy or escapist fictions whose authors declare themselves 'above politics,' 'just entertainers,' and so on." Ursula le Guin Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
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