Owen's first visit to the spanish Pediatrician...

Thursday:  We call the Pediatrician's office to set up an appointment.  We get a voicemail which tells us that we must call Monday/Wednesday/Friday after 5 pm.

Friday after 5 pm:  Matt calls to set up an appointment and miraculously they tell us to come in that same evening.  Appointment time:  7:45 pm.

We arrive at the building.  It appears to be a large apartment building.  We buzz button 2'L.  No one answers.  We look at each other with a little bit of synicism...is anyone really there?  We buzz again.  The door makes a wierd sound (which means it is unlocked) and we quickly pass through.  The building is completely dark.  There is a little bit of light coming from an open elevator.  The elevator is only large enough for Matt, myself and the stroller.  We squeeze in and are impressed that there is a mini-screen inside telling us the temperature and with ads from the area.

We go to the 2nd floor and as we get off the elevator it is pitch black again!  We feel around for the button that turns on the lights and when it turns on, we see the pediatrician's door.  We hear children chatting, crying and yelling behind the door.  This must be the place!!  We buzz and wait...still hearing all those little kids!  Finally, a pleasant looking lady opens the door.  "Owen, right?" she asks.  "Si" we answer.  It appears that this place was originally intended to be an apartment.  We enter through a long, white hall.  We can't squeeze the stroller by the little kid that is blocking the way.  He doesn't seem to care or notice that we would like to get through.  We pass a room full of kids and parents...it is LOUD!  The nice lady signals us to wait in the waiting room.  We wait.  A little girl named Maria and her little sister come over to admire Owen.  "Please don't breathe on him" I think to myself...who knows what kids have when they are at the Dr.'s office?  Her mother and grandmother must have thought the same.  They reprimand her to stay back and get away from the baby.

After waiting a good half hour or so, they call us in.  It is a large room that probably used to be a living room.  There are shelves with medicine, supplies and booklets all exposed.  We shake hands with the white-haired yet handsome doctor.

We begin to talk with the doctor.  He asks us about my pregnancy with Owen and his birth.  He asks how many kilos Owen weighed and how many centimeters long he was....ummm...I hate this question!  I'm never prepared to convert the measurements!  When I answer, he says, "Ok...roughly 3 kilos and 50 centimeters."  I guess we don't need it to be exact.  He takes Owen and gives him a good checking out.  I don't think he changed the little pad from the kid before and when he weighed him, he kept the diaper on...different from what they do in the US.  He is pleased with Owen's demeanor and appearance commenting that he is a happy, healthy baby.  He gives us a nice little booklet to keep us informed of our baby's growth and development.  The booklet is also for our personal records.  There were no records taken by him nor his assistant.  I guess they don't keep a record.

We finish the consultation, the Dr. stands up and says, "Ok...that will be 40 euros."  We pay him and ask for a receipt.  He quickly scribbles down on a piece of paper that we paid him 40 euros.  We say "Goodbye" to the doctor and the nice lady who opened the front door and enter into the black hall again.  There it is...the light of the elevator.  The end.

Where is the prize?

We went to a birthday party last night at Burger King (in spanish, it is pronounced booh-gehr keen).  I'll admit, I wasn't looking forward to going.  This group of people is a tough crowd...they've struggled with alcohol, drugs, eating disorders and many relational problems.  On top of it all, Matt had to drop the kids and I off first while he ran a quick errand.  Beyond the other difficulties I mentioned earlier, I wasn't sure I'd be able to "mingle" very well as they speak andalucian Spanish...it is very difficult to understand already and add the fact that they use many curse words and speak faster than a bullet train!!!   Anyways, it ended up being a fun and interesting time.  We were the only ones who brought a gift for the 5 year old birthday boy (Francis).  Logan and Jada LOVED playing with all the kids and spent most of the time under an interactive, computerized light show.  We were cutting the cake and as we were passing it out, there was a group of 4 adolescents looking at the cake with BIG eyes.  We offered them some cake, which at first they declined.  After insisting, they took some and enjoyed it.  But, as we focused our attention on the kids and the birthday boy, these same adolescents decided to take our (used) cups and help themselves to free fountain drinks.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised?  I don't know.  The night ended, and I sat in the empty birthday-party-space waiting for Matt to come pick us up.  As I was picking up all of our things, I realized that my two kids were going to be the ONLY two kids leaving the party without their "surprise bag" that was handed out earlier.  I guess I'm not used to keeping such a close eye on my things.  So, we lost our free refills and our birthday favors, but we left with our dignity!   I guess the prize isn't always something we can see is it?