I have very little social contact. I look forward to the days I get to go to therapy and interact with the people who have made it their business to help me every step of the way. When I feel up to it, I go to the grocery store with my wife. A really big day is a doctor appointment. We plan doctor appointments like some people plan their vacations. My wife carries around a planner to keep it all straight.
I have a plethora of health care professionals. Besides my GP I have my ophthalmologist, E.N.T. audiologist, neurosurgeon, oncologist, thoracic surgeon, speech therapist and physical therapist. I even have my own case manager. Each doctor wants their own tests. If medical tests were tattoos, I'd be covered from head to toe like a cheap newspaper.
Last week, after two previous failed attempts, we had the pleasure of "visiting" with my oncologist. I do believe its easier for a terrorist carrying a biological weapon to cross the border than it is for some doctors' offices to coordinate with insurance companies to get proper authorization for an appointment. Since it is a bit of a drive, we decided to give ourselves plenty of time. We left two hours in advance and arrived just prior to our 1p.m. appointment time.
We were greeted with the dreaded health history form. This, I am convinced, is a clever stall tactic. We carry computers in our pockets, cars drive themselves, robots vacuum our floors, yet somehow the medical community can't seem to keep an updated record of our health history. No matter how many different hospitals, clinics, Doctors we visit, we still have to fill out the form over and over again. Don't they know how to share with each other?
Once the form is completed, they inform us that they are running late and it will be at least an hour an half before they can see us. They knew we were coming right? We left the house two hours early, filled out the dreaded health history form, yet somehow they weren't prepared for us?
The waiting room looked like the motor vehicle department. People were fighting over the restrooms like they were the last helicopters out of Vietnam.
Now when you make an appointment to see Doctor A, and Doctor B walks in the room you have a right to be disappointed. It's a lot like going to see Bono only to have Bieber show up in his place. He walks in the room, shakes our hands and immediately lathers up with Purell. The least he could have done is offer us some. Who's to say he's not the one with the cooties! He then begins to ask us all the same questions that appeared on the dreaded health history form. Déjà vu I kid you not. So which of these procedures could we have just eliminated in lieu of efficiency? Hmmmm. No wonder we had to wait 2 hours after our scheduled appointment time.
Doctor B does his job casting doubt, creating fear and ordering additional tests. During the exam he keeps looking at his watch like he's got a plane to catch. Thats my cue to keep asking more and more questions. Hey doc, what do you think of the Lakers this year? Does this mole look suspicious? Who's your interior designer? By gosh, I want to get my monies worth!
So our 1 o'clock appointment turned into a seven hour day. All so we could see a "stand in" doctor. Do you think the box office will give us a refund?