what was this bad experience faced by doctor?
Answers
Answer:
I had taken my fifteen-year-old daughter to Children’s hospital for a dermatology consult for acne, as it was becoming cystic in places on her face and back. Clinic days can be somewhat of a zoo, with a wide range of ages and diagnoses, and cheerful to screaming children waiting anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours. We had entered the line to be seen and began the registration process. My daughter was becoming visibly more and more self-conscious as the head resident is staring at her face.
We were accustomed to the stares and questions from people who were unfamiliar with her birthmark. My daughter was born with a port-wine stain. A genetic vascular defect passed down from her paternal grandfather, which happened to skip a generation. All of our children had a one in four chance of having one. In the case of my daughter, hers was nearly a perfect match to her grandfather's as noted by the first dermatologist who looked at it from the Cleveland Clinic when her grandfather chose to have his removed. Rarely are they that similar.
Removal of the port-wine stain is accomplished with laser surgery. The pulsing of the laser cauterizes the vessels underneath the skin. The physicians told us it was like being snapped in the face repeatedly with a rubber band. As her parents, we felt she was too young to sit through the repeated treatments. My father-in-law had said it was more painful afterward during the healing process. Our decision was to wait until our daughter wanted to have her birthmark removed. Until then, we approached inquiries with providing people with information. Our daughter had grown up feeling confident and comfortable with her face as it was.
Once we were in the examination room, the entire focus of our appointment immediately shifted due to the curiosity of the head resident. Our small exam room suddenly was full of a revolving door of residents looking at my daughter’s face as a learning experience. Initially, I was cooperating with this, in order to accomplish the goal of treating her acne. My daughter was being treated as a medical oddity, and I was not fully comprehending the implications of what that meant. But as the head resident continued to speak, he began to go further and further from our goal, first by asking for an MRI to assess the depth of her port-wine stain, stating that we were not fully informed as to it’s impact on my daughter. He further stated, after glancing at her education being homeschooled at the time, that she could possibly be retarded and I might not be aware. She might need to be assessed by their neuropsychology department.
At that outrageous attempt to utilize scare tactics and intimidation, I asked that he be removed and not return. I repeated the purpose of our appointment and stated that if they were unable to oblige, we would pack-up and leave. The head resident abruptly left, returning with the supervising physician hoping for vindication. The supervising physician began by stating this was a teaching hospital and asked that I exercise patience. I smiled at this comment, knowing I had a response that would appease his need to be clear I understood what he was saying. I explained that I had a colleagueal relationship with the Ombudsman of the University of Oklahoma School of Medicine when I worked at Presbyterian Hospital in Oklahoma City. He would send to me some of his most arrogant and green residents, and I would help them learn to be polite and respect ancillary services such as speech-language therapy. I remarked that it had proven to be quite effective, as we conferred frequently over which ones were the slow ones to understand the lesson.
The supervising doctor raised his eyebrows and gave a chuckle, and began to ask what had transpired. I gave him my impressions regarding the ambitions of the head resident and then gestured to my now silently crying daughter. I explained how the head resident suggested that my daughter with the 148 IQ was mentally deficient and how I, with a masters degree in speech-language pathology and 20 years of experience couldn't possibly be wise enough to suspect it or have sought for my child to be evaluated. But even more ironic was the fact she was identified as talented and gifted in second grade in the public school she attended. At no time were we asked if she had attended school.
Explanation:
Answer:
Answer:
I had taken my fifteen-year-old daughter to Children’s hospital for a dermatology consult for acne, as it was becoming cystic in places on her face and back. Clinic days can be somewhat of a zoo, with a wide range of ages and diagnoses, and cheerful to screaming children waiting anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours. We had entered the line to be seen and began the registration process. My daughter was becoming visibly more and more self-conscious as the head resident is staring at her face.
We were accustomed to the stares and questions from people who were unfamiliar with her birthmark. My daughter was born with a port-wine stain. A genetic vascular defect passed down from her paternal grandfather, which happened to skip a generation. All of our children had a one in four chance of having one. In the case of my daughter, hers was nearly a perfect match to her grandfather's as noted by the first dermatologist who looked at it from the Cleveland Clinic when her grandfather chose to have his removed. Rarely are they that similar.
Removal of the port-wine stain is accomplished with laser surgery. The pulsing of the laser cauterizes the vessels underneath the skin. The physicians told us it was like being snapped in the face repeatedly with a rubber band. As her parents, we felt she was too young to sit through the repeated treatments. My father-in-law had said it was more painful afterward during the healing process. Our decision was to wait until our daughter wanted to have her birthmark removed. Until then, we approached inquiries with providing people with information. Our daughter had grown up feeling confident and comfortable with her face as it was.
Once we were in the examination room, the entire focus of our appointment immediately shifted due to the curiosity of the head resident. Our small exam room suddenly was full of a revolving door of residents looking at my daughter’s face as a learning experience. Initially, I was cooperating with this, in order to accomplish the goal of treating her acne. My daughter was being treated as a medical oddity, and I was not fully comprehending the implications of what that meant. But as the head resident continued to speak, he began to go further and further from our goal, first by asking for an MRI to assess the depth of her port-wine stain, stating that we were not fully informed as to it’s impact on my daughter. He further stated, after glancing at her education being homeschooled at the time, that she could possibly be retarded and I might not be aware. She might need to be assessed by their neuropsychology department.
At that outrageous attempt to utilize scare tactics and intimidation, I asked that he be removed and not return. I repeated the purpose of our appointment and stated that if they were unable to oblige, we would pack-up and leave. The head resident abruptly left, returning with the supervising physician hoping for vindication. The supervising physician began by stating this was a teaching hospital and asked that I exercise patience. I smiled at this comment, knowing I had a response that would appease his need to be clear I understood what he was saying. I explained that I had a colleagueal relationship with the Ombudsman of the University of Oklahoma School of Medicine when I worked at Presbyterian Hospital in Oklahoma City. He would send to me some of his most arrogant and green residents, and I would help them learn to be polite and respect ancillary services such as speech-language therapy. I remarked that it had proven to be quite effective, as we conferred frequently over which ones were the slow ones to understand the lesson.
The supervising doctor raised his eyebrows and gave a chuckle, and began to ask what had transpired. I gave him my impressions regarding the ambitions of the head resident and then gestured to my now silently crying daughter. I explained how the head resident suggested that my daughter with the 148 IQ was mentally deficient and how I, with a masters degree in speech-language pathology and 20 years of experience couldn't possibly be wise enough to suspect it or have sought for my child to be evaluated. But even more ironic was the fact she was identified as talented and gifted in second grade in the public school she attended. At no time were we asked if she had attended school.
Explanation:
\fbox \pink{hope \: this \: helps \: you \: dear}
hope this helps you dear
\fbox \pink{if \: you \: like \: this \: answe \: make \: me \: as \: brainleast}
if you like this answe make me as brainleast