Thursday, October 16, 2008

How *not* to start a relationship with a (hot) new doctor.

So over 2 weeks ago, my doctor tells me that I need to see a Orthopedist for that whole disk think in my back, right? They *finally* make me that appointment (but don't bother to call to tell me) and the orthopedist's office calls me yesterday and tells me that my appointment is today at 9:30, but show up 15 minutes early, blah blah blah.

So I show up at 9:10 (because I'm nothing if not punctual) and fill out the requisite 37 pages of paperwork and hand over my id and insurance card (and my high school transcripts and a lock of hair and a sample of blood and a kidney) to the front desk people by 9:15 and go to sit down.

And wait.

And make up my grocery list for next week.

And wait.

And other patients came and were escorted into the back and I'm still waiting.

And they have nothing to read in the lobby and the tv is set to Fox news and stupid terribly shrill Sarah Palin is on there, flapping her folksy gums.

Finally, after I've been waiting for over half an hour, they call me into the back. Then I'm stuck in a smaller, even less comfortable room with blaring country music. It's like I'm moving through the circles of hell, I'm assuming the next room will be a smaller room where someone with halitosis, a lisp and a lazy eye wants to talk to me about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day
Saints.

A few minutes pass and the (hot but short) doctor walks in and introduces himself - for some irrational reason, I get even more irritated because he's not the main doctor, he's the guy who's listed second on the door (??? Shut up, I know).

We chat for a second and I get even more irritated because they don't have my MRI or x-ray, so maybe I'm kind of acting a teeny bit sulky or sullen.

He asks if I'm irritated about something and instead of doing one of the usual "no, everything's great" type of placating that most people will do, I tell him that I'm irritated about being told to show up early, then being ignored for 40 minutes. He gently suggests that maybe they were verifying my insurance, to which I not necessarily gently suggest that maybe they acknowledge me existence and acknowledge that I've been waiting for 40 minutes.

He apologizes and then distracts me with a neato shiny viewing of my MRI (that he just downloaded):

him: here's the area between the disks [blah blah blah medical talk] and if you work on strengthening these muscles *points to an area on the screen that looks like a couple steaks*
me: hey, it looks like a couple steaks!
him: uh... yeah, well you need less marbling on here
me: But I'm tender!

Then we talked some more, he offered me an olive branch of more painkillers (which I turned down) and I apologized for being a bitch.

him: you weren't a bitch
me: yes, I was, but it was just frustrating because my back hurts and your chairs aren't comfortable and you had nothing to read and I had to watch stupid Fox News and stupid Sarah Palin and then I came back here and there was stupid loud country music and... none of this is your fault.

he explained that he wasn't a fan of Republican propaganda or country music either, and gently reminded me where I live and that they were going to appeal to more people here than any other alternative.

Then I decided that, in spite of his 2nd billing on the door, he was a nice (and hot, but short) guy.