2006-03-23 @ 6:11 p.m.
Its really too bad that you can’t fill out some kind of customer service card at a doctor’s office. Or go to the store manager to complain. Or even give them a bad report when you pass through their doors as a secret shopper. Because if I were to write a review for Zogby’s on my Doctor’s visit today, it would definitely be a bad review. A pan, as a matter of fact.
I started seeing this doctor shortly after I started seeing “A”, so I think its been about 9 years. When I first started seeing Dr. A, a tall, friendly lesbian doctor from like Wyoming or something, she was very folksy and nice. I liked her. She had the ability to immediately put you at ease. And she’s still friendly. Unfortunately, she’s missed almost every illness I’ve ever had and its only out of sheer luck, and referrals to specialists, that I have ever been treated for things I was actually ill with. But dang, she’s nice, so I’ve just never had the inertia to get my mile thick medical files and go somewhere else. Things may change though...
Today was my yearly complete physical exam. You know, the one that includes the down-there girlie exam. I’m okay with doctors. I’m okay with pap smears. Its just part of life. The only part I'm not okay with, other than always having to diagnose myself and not getting paid $486, is having to wait. I mean, you never want to schedule anything important like your wedding or a job interview a half hour after your doctor’s appointment, because hoo-boy, are you ever going to be late.
Like today for instance. I’ve been trying to turn over a new leaf with the anger stuff. Some people can’t help if they’re stupid. I mean, you can laugh so uproariously at the yuppie talking about their aura on their cell phone. And try to grit your teeth when the idiot behind you is blasting their horn. Maybe he just got it fixed and wanted to try it out. Toot, toot! Whee! That sounds neat! Toot! Toot! Okay, shut the fuck up now, skippie.
So I got to my doctor’s appointment exactly on time. 1 p.m. I was a little worried because I had just got the “freak on” at home and was concerned about possible evidence being visible during my pap smear. Can you imagine? Gah. What an idiot. But when the call of nature calls, the sex goddess must answer...You know. So I signed in and sat down. They just moved to a new location and actually had some new magazines beside “Tennis”. They had...are you ready? A copy of “Ebony”. And I was like “Ebony”? There aren’t even any African American people within about 15 miles of the Village. How do I know this? Because I recently clicked on a census link on our library page and the racial makeup of the Village, was something like this: Caucasian: 99.49%, Asian .39%, Other .11%, African American .01%. And I wondered how much .01% of a person was? Somebody riding a bus through town on their way to the Indian gambling casino? But I enjoyed looking at Ebony. It had several pages of Black Beauty Queens with a wide assortment of tiaras on. It was just to die for.
So how long did I wait in the reception area reading about Black Beauty Queens and listening to some 112 year old lady on oxygen shrieking “What’s that??” everytime the office phone rang. Oh about fifty minutes. Okay. I knew there would be a wait. There always is. I kind of build that into the appointment.
Note to Self: Expect these soulless medical bastards to always be at least 50 minutes late. Ok. Good. Thanks.
I finally got ushered into a new maze of hallways by the blonde Nazi Nurse. I think I scared her the last time I had an appointment, because I refused to play along with her fake chipper “Aren’t our patients great!
First stop: Urine sample. Well, here’s something I am good at. I can pretty much urinate on command. Its even on my resume. So I went into the bathroom and soon became totally entranced with a lengthy list of do’s and don’ts of how to pee into a cup. I thought, I better read this veeeery closely, since last time I accidently peed on my hand and we had to call in a Hazmatt team. This list though, was almost pornographic. It had you putting your fingers in your labia and doing all sorts of cool things, and it even had me thinking, hey wasn’t I just doing this about 2 hours ago? I guess I got a little carried away, because suddenly and rather abruptly Nazi Nurse had the audacity to knock on the door in the middle of the labia thing. I was so, if you’ll excuse the expression, pissed. I had only been in there like 2 minutes. I said, “someone’s in here.” (heh, heh, like its a secret). Then another minute goes by and I’m finally getting to the actual peeing part and damn if that bitch doesn’t knock again. Talk about urine-nus-interruptus. Jeezus, I just sat for almost an hour in the lobby and then you only give me 2 minutes to produce a clean catch urine sample? What's up with that?
I finally finished and took the sample out to her. And she leans into me really close and whispers, “Some people just CAN’T pee on command.”
Crimany woman, we’re not incontinent shih tzus!
I then had to suffer through a seeing eye test which I failed. Thank you very much. So yes, I am now officially eligible for the Helen Keller Bake-Off next summer. Yay me!
We then had to do some more fake “I love our patients” chit chat in the examining room while she took my blood pressure 124/80 and pulse 72 and temperature 1000 degrees Fahrenheit (yeah, I’m hot, what can I say?). And then it was time to get nekkid. Yee haw! There had to be something fun about going to the doctor’s. And then there was the wait. 2:00. 2:15. 2:30. 2:45. Now mind you, my doctor’s appointment was for 1 p.m.
Finally at 2:58, my doctor finally ambled in. Meh! Only 2 hours late. Why would witty look like she had just heard that George Bush had somehow gotten elected for a third term. Nothing was said about the lateness. Do I want an apology? Yes. Why not? My time is important too. She asked if I had any medical problems. You mean besides Angercitis? Heh. No I didn’t say that, I was just thinking it. She never stopped moving though. Looked in the ear (one only). Said to say “Ah”...didn’t even stop to look in my mouth. Did a breast exam. Usually she’s very complete. This one? I touch my boob more at a stoplight. Pelvic exam? Did I even have one? I guess I did. Did I? Can just vaguely remember something going on down there.
Total time for my full yearly physical exam including pap smear? 8 minutes. 8 fucking minutes. And I figure the price tag to Medicare will probably be up around $400.
What a racket, huh?
Did I get to ask any questions? Not really. Everything happened so quick, I was suddenly just sitting in an examining room alone again, when she popped her head in briefly and said that I needed a tetanus shot. I guess that was for if I decided to bite anyone on the way out to the checkout window. And just when she was about to close the door I yelled after her. I had some questions about peri-menopause. She just said that she would order some blood test to determine what was going on and then....SLAM. As in the door slamming and her disappearing.
Don’t you just love the great customer service you get when somebody is charging your insurance company way more than their services are worth?
I felt very...I don’t even know. Cheated. I only have one body and if I don’t keep it healthy or if my doctor doesn’t catch some potential health problem, all because they’re double or triple booking their schedule so that they can pay for their new medical building, than why should I put my trust in them?
In happier news, I have two Mallard ducks who might be taking up residence in the creek next to my apartment. Its an old man-made creek from the turn of the century, but there are chunks of earth where they can walk around and I’m hoping that they might be making it their nesting area there. Today on the way out, I had some old bread, and I threw it down to where they were swimming. Unfortunately they got freaked out and didn’t realize I was trying to feed them. The male duck was so scared, he even almost tumbled over the edge of the waterfall in a moment of abject duck fear. Nice going, witty.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty