How To Save A Life

Helpful parenting tip of the day from me, your pal, lovable furry old rockle: When the county tells you that they have changed your foster child's insurance so that she is now covered under < insert name of plan here >, make sure to ask if < name of plan > is HMO code for "Ghetto Health Plan."

Bonus helpful parenting tip of the day from me, your friend, although not quite as lovable at the moment, thanks for asking: When the county tells you that you need to select a new primary care pediatrician for your foster child, even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with the other one, he was really awesome in fact and we liked him very much, make sure to ask if "Ghettoville Regional Medical Center" is PR code for "disgusting public clinic."

Additional bonus helpful parenting tip of the day from me, your buddy, who is growing increasingly pissed with every passing moment, now that you mention it: When your case worker tells you that the county forwarded her a letter stating that the original pediatrician -- whom you painstakingly selected from all of the maybe five available physicians covered under the Ghetto Health Plan -- no longer accepts the insurance, maybe it is time to start freebasing the Valium.

Extra additional bonus helpful parenting tip of the day from me, who is not going to continue this conceit any more because it's just getting retarded at this point: When you arrive at the clinic that is supposed to be a regular, normal-old doctor's office for your foster child's 15-month well-child visit and all the forms they give you to sign are written in another fucking language, just give the hell up and run the fuck away and maybe sit in your car for a while, weeping and drinking white zinfandel straight from the bottle.

Mondo extra additional bonus helpful parenting tip of the day from me: When the receptionist at the clinic tells you that they are handling emergencies in the morning and that the doctor is running a little behind schedule, and that they don't know how far behind the doctor actually is, per se, but it shouldn't be long before you are seen, make sure to ask the receptionist to define "a little behind schedule" and "shouldn't be long," and when you get a vague noncommittal answer, try very hard not to punch her in the mouth, even though you really really want to, partly because she is lying out her ass, but also because she did that thing with her lip liner that makes you completely batshit crazy nuts.

Super mondo extra additional bonus helpful parenting tip of the day from me: WHO THE HELL ACTUALLY THINKS THAT THING WITH THE LIP LINER LOOKS GOOD ON ANYONE? WHO? I DEMAND ANSWERS!

Crazy super modo extra additional bonus helpful parenting tip of the day from me: When you have to take your poor 15-month-old to Ghettoville Regional Medical Center because Ghetto Health Plan says you have to, expect to spend FOUR FUCKING HOURS waiting to see a doctor because nobody bothered to tell her that there was AN ACTUAL PATIENT WITH AN ACTUAL GODDAMNED APPOINTMENT WAITING TO ACTUALLY BE SEEN BY AN ACTUAL BOARD-CERTIFIED PHYSICIAN IN EXAM ROOM FIVE. Since two o'clock. After they waited in reception since quarter to eleven, and ran out of food, and ran out of juice, and ran out of diapers, and ran out of patience, and OH MY GOD I AM TOTALLY GOING TO STAB THAT RECEPTIONIST IN THE TEMPLE WITH THAT LIP LINER PENCIL BECAUSE THAT SHIT IS JUST OUT OF CONTROL, WHO LIVES LIKE THIS, I AM ASKING YOU PEOPLE?!?

Also: at your 15-month well-child exam? Your poor kid, who has not had a proper lunch or a proper nap, and who is wearing a two-hour old diaper at this point, is going to get shots, and that is NOT GOING TO BE FUN. You may want to plan something special for dinner, like milkshakes or banana splits topped with lots of whipped cream, cherries, and Xanax.


  1. Poor cupcake...she had to sit in that old diaper for 2 hours...and then they gave her shots :( I can't wait to meet her and love on her!

  2. Okay. So I know I don't keep in touch like I should, and that reading your blog without actually keeping in touch makes me feel like some kind of creepy stalker. And I know that posting a comment doesn't really count as keeping in touch. And I'm very sorry to hear that both you and your astonishingly cute little one had to suffer these amalgamated indignations and general stupidities. But damn, your writing just kills me. Still. Thanks for turning your suffering into a big grin for me. :)

  3. Glad to oblige -- I suffer so you don't have to. :-)

  4. need...new...blog...and...pictures. sorry to hear about all the horrible stuff. i'll try to remember to always have extra diapers with me ;-)

  5. already in the works - check back later. also: DITTO.