We had an experience over Christmastime that really soured my attitude towards the medical profession -- Emergency Room doctors, primarily -- and made me realize that I am the only one looking out for the best interests of my children and I need to be ready to ask questions and make decisions when the time calls for it.
 
A few days before school let out for Christmas break, my 6-year-old daughter was fighting a fever.  This is typical in our home; my kids are prone to fevers.  She had complained of a sore throat too, but it wasn't anything I was particularly concerned about.  So we gathered our family, our luggage, and our Christmas presents and loaded them into our faithful old minivan and headed across the PA Turnpike and down I-81 to my parents' home in Virginia.
 
When we arrived at our destination, my daughter wasn't feeling so well, and she was developing a rash on her trunk and face.  I immediately wondered about strep throat/scarlet fever.  My sister-in-law, a pediatrician, took one look at her and immediately pronounced scarlet fever.  She advised me to see how she was in the morning, but said the only way to treat her would be with an antibiotic.
 
The next morning my daughter looked worse -- her rash was worse, and her eyes were practically swollen shut.  Despite that, she was in remarkably good spirits -- that is, until we informed her we were taking her to see a doctor.  That did NOT go over well.
 
We didn't bother waiting for my SIL to arrive; we just headed straight for the ER.  If we needed an antibiotic, I knew I needed to get her treated ASAP.  Keep in mind, this was Christmas Eve AND my daughter's 6th birthday -- not EXACTLY how we had hoped to spend the day.
 
In the ER, a Physician Assistant looked my daughter over and asked a few questions before ordering a nose swab, throat swab, and blood draw.  We spent the next 20 minutes consoling my distraught child at the thought of a blood draw.
 
I didn't think much about the necessity of the blood test until the nurse entered the room and informed us that she was going to insert an IV when she did the stick for the blood test.  That was my first red flag.  
 
When I inquired, she explained that the IV was in case my daughter was dehydrated.  Nevermind the fact that she entered the ER drinking an oversized apple juice, and I, her parent, could attest that she had been eating and drinking quite normally despite her lackluster state.  The nurse reasoned that it would be eaisier to do it all at once.
 
I balked, and she said I could talk to the doctor about it.  Sure, fine, let's do that.  Which meant the technician left, and I had to wait AGAIN for the doctor to return.  
 
Meanwhile, yet ANOTHER technician appeared -- to take my daughter for a chest x-ray.  SECOND red flag.  I balked again.  This was to rule out pneumonia.  Um.  I have a son with asthma.  I think I know repiratory distress.  And besides, there were NO signs of pneumonia.
 
I was assured that I could decline the test, but this was just a precaution.  Yes, let's just wait on unnecessary radiation, shall we?  Thanks.  Back to our room we went.
 
Finally after a blood draw wrought with screaming and fighting, a nose and throat swab, and another wait, we were told that the tests were negative; this was probably just a virus, and we should wait it out.  They would let us know the results of the long-term strep test THE NEXT DAY, but the short-term test was negative.
 
Puzzled and unconvinced, we returned home.  My sister-in-law was dubious as well.  She said that strep is pretty distinguishable, and she was positive that's what we had.  She offered to call in a script, and I took her up on it.  Again, this was Christmas Eve.  I thought it might be nice to get a head start on treatment.
 
Long story short, my daughter began clearing up almost immediately, and we never received word from the ER.  When it was time to return to PA, we were all curious about the outcome of the long-term test.  We assumed that no news meant it was negative, but I just had a funny feeling that it wasn't; my SIL was too confident in her diagnosis.  So when we arrived home, A FULL WEEK AFTER the visit to the ER, I gave a call.
 
The test had been positive.  They had never called.  I read them the riot act.  I submitted a formal complaint.  They have never followed up.  
 
I am livid.  First, they acted like a bunch of cowboys, ordering all sorts of unnecessary tests, and then when the results were such that required immediate action, they completely dropped the ball.  Granted, if I hadn't had access to the necessary medication, I would have followed up sooner, but that's beside the point.  Not only were they overly invasive, but then they were ridiculously negligent.  And to top it off, they admitted no wrongdoing and did nothing to assuage my complaints.
 
As I said to them, I'm just happy I no longer live in that town and don't have to depend on their medical care.  Except, of course, when visiting relatives at the holidays.
 
This event just goes to show that as parents, we can never be too trusting.  We must be well informed and in tune with our maternal instincts, and be willing to speak up when something doesn't seem quite right.