I had a run-in with this particular receptionist a couple of years ago. For the sake for this digression, let’s call her "Grumble".
When you enter my doctor’s office, you face a desk big enough to accommodate three receptionists. It’s basically one long desk but their stations are separated from each other by narrow, plexiglass walls. These walls are meant to give the illusion of privacy, but in fact you can hear any conversation taking place at the reception desk pretty much anywhere in the waiting room. About six feet in front of this desk is a rope which you have to stand behind until one of the receptionists decides to grant you an audience.
Anyway, a couple of years ago, I had to go in for an appointment and when I was allowed to approach the reception desk, a different receptionist, who was actually pleasant and is therefore not there anymore, checked me in and mentioned that I was overdue for my lab. This surprised me and I said something outrageous like, “Oh, I wish I had known”.
Well, Grumble was sitting next to her and this apparently rubbed her the wrong way. “Oh no!”, she said, breaking the highly secure privacy barrier. “I’ve left multiple messages at your house and even talked to you directly!”
Normally, I’d take the blame for something like this- not just because I don’t like confrontations, which I don’t- especially when it’s about something so stupid. But also because I just don’t want to waste my time arguing with someone who is of no consequence to me. But this just didn't sit right with me.
I looked over at Grumble, who stared back at me with an expression like she was biting on an acorn. Finally, I said, “Our answering machine is always on and I’ve never had a message or a conversation about this- with you or anyone else”. She bit down harder on the invisible acorn and glared at me for a solid minute. Then she said, “Oh, and are you the only male in your household?”
I’m not really sure of the sex of the answering machine, but I told her that no, I wasn’t the "only male in my household", that I had a special needs son at home and that first of all, she shouldn’t be leaving messages with him, she should be talking directly to me. And second of all, if she had left a message with him, he’s great about giving messages to me- which he never did. So either she never called, or she’s been calling the wrong house.
She glared at me some more and then muttered something to herself which I either didn’t hear or choose not to remember.
We’ve been enemies ever since.
That’s why I end up with appointments in the middle of the day with doctors I’ve never seen before.
So anyway, I check in for my 1:10pm appointment. Grumble asks for my date of birth and then my name, just like when I called to make the appointment. Apparently I answered correctly and she told me to hand over my co-payment and to go take a seat. Grumble and I didn’t acknowledge our mutual hatred. I took a seat by the door.
After the standard wait time, a nurse called me in. I never get the same nurse twice. They either have a huge rotating staff, or they have an enormous turnover. Whichever it is, I’m guessing this nurse was new because she seemed pretty happy.
She weighed me again- for the third time in less than a week, and then led me into the doctor’s office where she stared at her laptop and asked for my date of birth and my name. I’m guessing this was all part of the vast security measures they have in place to prevent any non-insured interloper from getting a free thumb exam. I gave her the information and, oddly, I felt a little proud that I answered it correctly.
The nurse asked me what the problem was and I explained it all over again.
I couldn’t help but wonder why everyone in the office has those laptops that supposedly has all my information on there, but no one ever seems to know what’s going on.
So I explained it all over again to the nurse and she’s laughing like this is some big joke. And then I showed her my thumb, and she stopped laughing. Happy Nurse got up and told me that the Doctor would be right in. She left and less than a minute later she was back with someone else, whom I later learned was the doctor, who was also carrying a laptop.
Apparently the doctor was on her way to see another patient but just had to see this thumb first. I’m thinking that Happy Nurse must have filled her in when she rushed out of the room and the doctor, having had more years of medical training, didn’t believe what she was hearing. They both hovered over my thumb with expressions like they were examining a new life form. Then, less than a minute later, they abruptly left without a word.
Happy Nurse came rushing back in with an arm full of stuff that she dropped on the counter and then said, “This isn’t going to hurt a bit”, which of course means that it’s going to hurt a lot more than a bit. Then she started to laugh again as she left.
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| The actual "Won't Hurt a Bit" buffet. |
This time it was several minutes before both Happy Nurse and New Doctor came back in together. New Doctor asked me how this happened, and I went through it all over again. The doctor listened, then explained that they were going to numb my thumb and try to drain it and that I might feel a little pinch when they injected the numbing agent into my thumb. Then they unrolled a disposable pad on the desk and Happy Nurse held down my arm as the doctor went for the needle. The Doctor advised me not to look, which was completely unnecessary as I had no intention of looking. And then came the “little pinch”.
This “little pinch” hit the same point in my nostril that the knife did on my previous visit, but this time, my hand jerked involuntarily and apparently knocked the needle out of the doctor’s hand. I could feel the “numbing agent” running all over my arm. “Whoops! We’ll have to give that one more try!”, said the doctor. I immediately broke out in one of those full body sweats that you get with something like food poisoning, right before you begin vomiting for a week.
Happy Nurse gripped my hand tighter. The second stab of the needle was slightly more successful.
After testing my thumb for numbness, the doctor went at it with the knife. I couldn't feel pain exactly, just the pressure and pulling like someone was using a dull knife to try to saw through a fibrous piece of gristle, while pressing on my thumb. Then, everything stopped.
After a few seconds of silence, the doctor says, “Huh, that’s weird.” I’m not sure who she was saying this to since I still wasn’t looking, but I think she was saying it to herself. After a few more minutes of silence, the doctor and nurse went off to huddle in the corner. I couldn’t hear what they were whispering, but I’m pretty sure it was something along the lines of, “That didn’t work. I’m out of ideas, do you have any ideas?”.
After formulating their game plan, they cheerfully broke up their huddle and the doctor told me she was going to prescribe me three days worth of antibiotics. I didn’t bother to mention that Doctor Number One had specifically told me that antibiotics wouldn’t do me any good, but at this point, it was pretty clear that nobody knew what was going on.
“And if the antibiotics don’t work”, she said, “Call back on Friday and I’ll write a referral”, which is another way of saying, “Go bother someone else”.
So, I left and filled my prescription which, judging by the size of the pills, is the same type of medication used by veterinarians that specialize in Large Animals.
And after three days of taking these horse pills- nothing has changed..
I can hardly wait to call Grumble and get the referral. That should go pretty well.
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