As it turned out, I waited 2 hours for the doctor only to be told all muscle relaxants are transmitted to breast milk, so nothing could be done. The doc quizzed me for 15 minutes about postpartum depression. This seemed odd to me, until I realized it was probably because I burst into tears in her office after 2 hours of waiting and a week of pain. She must have thought that having a new baby was too much for me to handle.
I didn't mind her being thorough except that it was followed by another 10 minutes of quizzing about my back, and then she disappeared for 15 to get a consult from another doctor. I suspect most of the doctors in the walk-in clinic are interns, so they can't move a muscle without checking everything with someone else.
The end result: she came back to tell me to bend my knees when lifting the baby and take hot baths. As if I haven't done/tried those things already.
Needless to say, I walked out of the hospital with nothing but frustration. Only to find the dreaded red parking-ticket car next to my car, slapping a ticket on my windscreen. I had gone 15 minutes over my parking meter time. And since I was stuck in the doctor's office, I couldn't top it up. I promptly burst into tears again.
A wasted day, all round. I think the universe is trying to teach me patience.
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