Page 12 of Draft Pick
The waitress, whom I’ve now learned is named Wynonna, sets a glass of water in front of me and saunters toward what looks to be an old record player sitting on an idle shelf. I watch from a distance as she adjusts the arm, placing it in position against the record.
“Vienna” by Billy Joel sings out, and my heart settles.
I love this song.Not just the fact that it’s an oldie, but because of the soul it brings out of anyone who listens. It represents moving forward and finding purpose, exactly how I am now. I’m not sure if this is the divine intervention I needed to prepare me for the day ahead, but I’m excited for what’s in store.
Noticing the sun beginning to rise, I check my watch—it’s now 6 a.m. The office doesn’t open until eight, giving me plenty of time to walk back home for my car and head to open. I want to get there at least thirty minutes before the rest of the staff so I can properly introduce myself.
Most of them have been employees of the previous physician, Dr. Wolk, for years now, and I wouldn’t doubt it if they were dreading this change. I need to make a good impression, while also establishing my role in the most loving way possible.
That’s nothing a few dozen donuts can’t cure. I remember spotting a shop down the street from my house with a line out the door. Must be a decent sign.
With no time to spare, I toss a ten on the table and stand to leave. “Don’t be a stranger now, Junie,” Wynonna calls out, her Southern Georgia accent strong.
Junie.She called me Junie. I’ve been nicknamed by a woman I spoke all of six words to, one of which was telling her my name before requesting a water. I realize now that Wynonna wasn’t avoiding conversation with me by keeping her distance, but maybe she felt I needed this morning to myself.
And because of that, I smile and say, “See you tomorrow, Wynonna. Thanks for the water.”
This is my practice. My very own practice.
“Eeeeekkkk,” I screech without worry, turning to find my new office manager, Gabriella, staring back at me with a megawatt smile on her face.
Good. I’m glad she matches my energy today. We’re gonna need it.
“Big day, Dr. Wilde?”
“The best day,” I tell her confidently, standing in the middle of the waiting room. I can’t help but take in all the updates I’ve made so far. It took bringing in a team of people after hourswhile I was still moving myself out of Tennessee and trusting that they would do what I hired them for.
I won’t lie and say I had high hopes—I didn’t. My initial worry was that they’d take advantage of the woman who’s essentially paying them prior to completion of the job and also happens to be states away.
But one small victory for mankind, because the renovation crew exceeded my expectations and proved my prediction wrong.
With the previous owner building the practice from the ground up, it was evident that no true and much-needed upgrades were ever done. The bones, however, were perfect—proof that the new way of building things will never live up to the old. In my case, I’m grateful.
The walls have been painted a slate gray, moody and warm in feel. Hanging from the ceiling along the entire circumference of the main lobby area are three-dimensional clouds painted in a soft white. A glow of light shines behind each of them, illuminating the space.
I’ve always found bright lights to be harsh. I’m hoping for calmness. Three TVs are placed at random corners, while tactile toys and brain gym operating systems cover the main wall, floor to mid-wall height. All hands-on activities are more neutral in color, while the true statement piece is the neon rug placed at the very center of the room.
Shapes of all different sizes make up a geometric cluster, each of them containing a picture of an animal. The contrast really makes the rug pop. I hope the kids love it.
I may have bought it simply because of the memories it stirs inside of me.
When I was a child, we had a rug similar in design, minus the animals. Every morning, I would wake up and beg my dadto play the “carpet game” with me. He would call out a random shape and color, and I had to jump on it from a starting point.
Think: The Floor is Lava meets Twister.
It was my favorite part of the morning, and an excitement I hope children feel when they walk through these doors.
My priority is to establish not only a safe space for them, but a loving and comfortable one as well.
Visiting the doctor’s office is not something kids typically enjoy.
It can be scary and often stir up bad memories, which lead to dreadful future experiences as well. Even for the parents. I’ve seen countless mothers and fathers on anxious pins and needles while waiting to be seen. The reason? Because nothing is kid-proofed, the staff have shitty attitudes, and the turnaround wait is pushing two hours.
Not atWilde Pediatrics. I have new policies in place to ensure everything runs smoothly. Not that I’m naive to the fact that it won’t always, but I’ll damn near try. The name change makes me feel like a real doctor. Having a place with my name on it—the same one my grandfather carried as he practiced pediatrics himself—means more than I could have ever predicted.
I’m proud to carry on the Wilde legacy somewhere new.
I’ve been around medical professionals from my mom’s side of the family for my entire life. But one thing that they can’t teach you in medical school is bedside manner. Attendings can preach about it all day long, but if you aren’t relatable and have even the smallest amount of nurture in your body, you’ll never make it where it counts. At least, in Peds. Or possibly just what I consider to be most important.
