Five weeks before Mr. X and I got married in 2003, our venue was closed by our city’s fire marshal as a reaction to the huge fire at the nightclub in Rhode Island. We didn’t live anywhere near Rhode Island, but we were going to get married on the second floor of a restaurant that unfortunately had only one emergency exit … through the kitchen. Where are fires most likely to start in a restaurant? Yep, the kitchen. So, the fire marshal put the kabosh on all functions at the location through an unknown date in the future (which was likely going to be well after our wedding date).
I found out on a Friday at work and I admit it, I cried. At my desk. I called my mother and left a tearful voice mail. And, then, I pulled it together and found five venues for us to tour the next day as replacements. We found our new venue (right down the street) and had a lovely wedding. In fact, I secretly think that it was probably a better wedding, even with the extra hassle.
I thought about this today when I learned that my OB has left the practice where we saw her and is in limbo waiting to fully extract herself before moving on to another position. My first thought was, what the hell am I going to do now? I loved my OB and now I can’t see her anymore. What’s worse is that we are in the third trimester with a due date that is only two and a half months away. Not the best time to switch horses.
My overall feeling right now, though, is just plain annoyance. I have to either find another doctor at the practice who I like and who is delivering babies or I have to find another practice altogether. Unfortunately, there is no information on whether and when my old OB will find a new practice, so for now we’re operating on the assumption that someone else will be our OB. The good news is that we have choices. The even better news is that I contacted Dr. Salsa and he came through with recommendations for a new OB.
We’ll find our new venue, and thankfully, this time we don’t have to send out revised invitations. Still, what a pain in the ass.