My name is Yidchick and I'm a doctorholic

Yesterday. Day 3 of my doctor binge. This time it's the paediatric gastroenterologist. He’s pleasant, smiley. Perhaps too smiley. He tells me nothing I don’t know but he says it in a way that makes me feel a lot better. He also weighs and measures little O and tells us that she is still in the bottom tenth percentile for height and weight, but that her head remains in the fiftieth percentile. This pleases R and I for some absurd reason. We are both large-noggined folk and we find it amusing that our child is similarly endowed. Then a horrible thought flashes – her large cranium isn’t encephalated as a result of cerebral fluid build up? – I ask, trying to thinly disguise the neurotic overtones of a mother who has done too much research on spinal conditions. No, he assures me, her oversized catroon-like skull is inherited from her parents. We laugh in relief, and all point and touch O’s ginormous head. There is some talk of buying giant sized hats. Do they make bicycle helmets in super-large? someone asks. More laughs. Then he charges me $150.

Today. It’s 9.45 PM and I haven’t seen a doctor at all. I’ve been tempted a few times but I’ve withheld. I nearly drove to the hospital out of habit. Am trying for a doctor free day tomorrow. Hold thumbs I make it.