Misdiagnosis.

I am one of those people who is never late for things.

I am ON TIME, if not early to every meeting or appointment or gathering that I am a part of. If I am ever running behind, or cutting it close, I turn into a crazy ball of stress-on-a-mission (just ask my hubby), and I can think of NOTHING ELSE but the fact that I am soooo late and how I'd much prefer it if the world would just fall down on top of my head and squish me out of existence.

So. There's that.

Yesterday, I had a doctor's appointment set up for Ezra at 2:00pm. I planned my entire day around this appointment- putting Ezra down for his nap early and having his lunch and juice ready to go in the fridge and hiding all his new toys in the corner behind the piano so that I could easily whisk him out of his bed and straight into the car around 1:40pm with no meltdowns. I'm a planner, I am.

So, at 1:40ish, I went in and scooped Ezra up and transferred him to the car no problem. I felt like I was cutting it close, so I tried to make good time getting to the doc's office (AKA speeding). When I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that there were no cars parked in front of the door, and I thought, "That's kinda weird! Where is everyone?"

That's when I looked at the clock in my car and realized it was only 12:55, not 1:55 like I'd thought. I couldn't believe it. How could I have been an hour off?? I figured everyone was still out to lunch, and that's why their cars were all gone, so now I had an hour to kill.

I'd forgotten my cell phone at home. I'd forgotten baby wipes at home. I'd forgotten extra diapers at home. And Ezra was in the backseat making 'the poop face'.

Things were falling apart fast.

I decided to go to Target and pick up a small pack of diapers (non-existent) and a travel pack of wipes and kill some time letting Ezra wander through the toy isles. Ezra was feeling miserable and has had a splinter lodged in the ball of his foot for a few days now, so he was slowly limping through the isles... looking like death warmed up.

I changed him and got him some juice and we wandered for awhile longer, and then I felt like maybe we could go back to the doctor's because we'd wasted about 45 minutes of time. We finally got back to the office and my clock now said it was 1:45.

I hauled my son out of the car along with a bag of toys for entertainment (Our pediatrician's office is STERILE and has NO TOYS whatsoever to entertain the kids with. None in the waiting room. None in the examining rooms. Not even any BOOKS for gosh's sake... HOW IS THIS LOGICAL?) Also in my hands: my purse, my coffee, and a sick toddler holding a juice box. I tumbled in through the door and went to sign Ezra in.

The receptionist looked at me harshly and said: "Name?"

I told her my name and then she said, "You do realize your appointment was at 2:00, don't you?"

"Yes!", I replied. "Why... what time is it?"

"2:50."

I think I almost blacked out from the crushing blow.

I. WAS. LATE.

I tried to explain that I had been here on time, but the clock in my car appeared to have been lying to my face so we'd just been wandering around Target to waste an hour and ohLord I'm so sorry do we needtorescheduleahhh?!?!

She looked at me over her wire rimmed glasses and said, "No, no. We'll fit you in. This time."

I slunk back to my seat and felt like a malfunctioning robot. Before they called our name to go back, Ezra managed to squeeze most of his juice box all over my tank top. It was not my day. They did get us in pretty quickly, wherein the doctor seemed to become convinced that Ezra had a horrible cough even though I was trying to tell him that NO, Ezra did not have a cough, not at all actually... he was just plugged up and I was worried about his ears.

This doctor always seems to get some idea in his head and then he's off and running with it and there's just no reasoning with him or bringing him back after that point, so he proceeded to prescribe Ezra some cough suppressant and some ointment to treat nausea. Nausea!? Huh? Who said anything about nausea? The only time he's thrown up is because he can't breathe from all the goo in his head and he starts to gag. I tried telling him this. Speaking to a wall. I kept asking the doc about his congestion and he said "Oh, just some over the counter stuff will be fine."

Great. Thanks.

I think it's time to find a new doctor, hmmm?

Turns out, Chris had changed the battery in the car the day before, so the clock was completely off.

At least I had been completely unaware that I was running so late to Ezra's appointment yesterday... If I had known it at the time, my head might have completely exploded right off of my body.

And then the doctor might have had to prescribe some cough suppressant for me as well.