Tuesday, June 27, 2006

It's Doctor Day

Yes, it's doctor day. I don't really much care for going to the doctor. It's not that I don't believe she can't help me, it's just that I don't like admitting I'm sick! Or there's anything wrong with me. I mean first you have to explain it all on the phone. Then when you get there, you have to explain it all over again to the nurse. When the doctor comes in, you get to explain it yet again. Does that make any sense? I mean it doesn't matter what you tell the receptionist, you still probably only get the typical appointment...what is that? 10 minutes? I don't know how many they schedule an hour, but if you get late morning or late afternoon, you can pretty much figure you ain't getting in there ANYWHERE near your appointment time.

And that's the way mine was today. My appointment was at 11:00. I think I arrived somewhat on time. At least I left the house at the time I should to get there on time. And for someone who can't stick to a schedule barely if her life depended on it, that's pretty doggone good!

I sign in. And wait. Didn't feel like reading their sports magazines. Or their golf magazines. Or the Parents magazines. Hmm, there was a People magazine. Nope. Don't feel like reading about Hollywood either. Guess I'll just sit here and think.

Which reminded me. I did have a form in my back pocket she was supposed to fill out. Guess I should get busy & fill out my part of the form. So I reluctantly picked up People magazine to use as the base. Probably shouldn't poke a hole in the form first off!

OK, that's finished. I take the pen back to the counter & gaze hopefully thru the window. Don't see a soul. Wonder what that's all about. Oh well. Best sit back down.

Waiting is hard when you have nothing to do. So I search thru my mind, wondering if there's anything I can compose in my head--you know, like a to do list. Can't think of anything. Surely I have lots to do. But I guess it's only obvious when I'm in the middle of it.

Then it occurs to me I should probably write down why I'm there so I don't forget anything. Ain't it always true you get out of the doctor's office and on the way home and you thunk your forehead and say, "Now why didn't I ask about thus and so."

So I get a piece of paper out of my pocket and start writing. I come up with 5 items, including the form. And wonder of wonders, they call my name. Odd, I think, because there are two other people still sitting there who were sitting there when I arrived. Oh well. Far be it from me to figure out their order of things.

First stop: that marvelous scales. I am so out of it, I don't even remember I'm on a diet until my feet step on it. Then I eagerly watch as she pushes the bar across. LOOK AT THAT! I've lost 5 pounds. And I have heavy boots on today too, so perhaps it might really be 6 pounds. Not bad, considering I've only been on my Special K diet for 8 days. I'm pleased.

On to the exam room. Where she motions for me to sit & she'll be right back. Oh boy...one of those days, eh? I throw my stuff on a chair and sit on the rolling stool. No, that won't do. That's the doctor's stool. So I climb up on the exam table. And wait.

Finally she comes back and asks why I am there. I wave the list triumphantly over my head and rattle off the five items. She just stares at me and says, ok, a little slower please. I have to write all this down. I reply, well, it was only 5 items. She makes a face at me.

I describe the first symptom. She asks a couple questions. I reply. She writes down 3 words.

I go to the 2nd symptom, which I explain to her the doctor & I had already discussed at the previous appointment. Her solution isn't working. Then she asks which side. I smile and say, "Well, I made sure everything was on the left side so you didn't get confused!" She bursts out laughing at that fact. I feel like we're getting somewhere.

Now we're approaching the middle of the list, and I'm sure the worst is behind me....WRONG. When I explain the third item, she stops looking at my chart and starts staring at me with the incredulous look. And she asks me, And how do you know this? I explain as best I can that I've been thru this before, and with 20 years experience with this particular thing, I just know. She puts her pen down, sighs, and asks more questions. Evidently she is convinced there is no way I could possibly know this about my body. Trust me, I'm thinking. I know this. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

She sighs, and asks more questions. I feel like she's sure she's going to find a hole in my theory, or that's she's still my adversary. Then she sidetracks into a diagnosis given me 20 years ago, asking about treatment & stuff. Gave me hope that she thinks I'm not a total nut case!

Finally she says, you know what? I'm just going to write down pain in side. I smile and say, fine. I'll explain it all when the doctor comes in.

We move to #4, which is related to my foot. She is happy about the foot. She can understand my description about the foot. I am happy she is happy! Things are back on track. That went quickly.

She looks up & inquires about #5. I pull the form out of my pocket which she grabs like a bird getting a cracker. Evidently forms are very understandable to her. She makes more notes on my chart. And says she'll be right back. Uh, huh, I think to myself.

A few minutes later we go thru the blood pressure, pulse--you know the drill. All the while she's asking me more questions about the 20 yr ago diagnosis. I feel like I am the first person she's talked to about this. Weird.

Then she leaves and I wait some more. It's now well after noon. I begin to wonder if everyone has went to lunch and forgot about me! I don't even hear any activity out in the hall. I turn and stare out the window. It's nice to have a window in an exam room. Unless you're sitting there in a paper gown, which I was not. The shades weren't even drawn. More weird!

Finally the doctor comes in. I really like this doctor. I have stuck with her for over 20 years. She is very personable, always inquires about DH, even tho he's never been a patient of her. And inquires about my dogs. That's nice. Then we move on to the list. First item goes by in seconds.

She takes the time to discuss some things about the second item. She doesn't feel physical therapy will be helpful. Doesn't think it's time for more intense treatment. We should continue with current treatment. Fine by me, as long as I know it's not abnormal.

Third item I can tell she's excited about. OK, so I'm an unusual (I prefer the word weird) patient in this area. She probes. She pushes. She wraps her fingers around my rib cage and sure enough, what I said was true. Way true, actually according to her. Then she starts probing the soft part of my back. Youch, I holler. What was that? It is as she suspected, she replied. She decides blood tests and an ultrasound are in order. She consults the chart. Yup, she says. Haven't done this for 2 years. It's time.

I am quiet but I sigh inwardly. This means another trip back and more waiting. I wonder if I can bring a laptop next time to keep me occupied!

We're on the home stretch now tho, I think. 3 items behind us, and only 1 to go. She looks at my foot. Hmm, she says. Never heard of this before. Little warning bells go off in my brain. Oh no. I thought I was close to getting out of here. She probes. Gets out a light. Explores some more. Asks me questions. Asks me more questions. Then she announces suddenly, I'll do surgery. I quickly roll over and yell, WHAT? Surgery was not in my list of options for this particular ailment.

She smiles triumphantly and says definitely. Yes, I'll do surgery. Right now! I gulp and think, OK. Sure. That's just what I came in here for. I have a fear of needles. I can't even think of a word to describe how I feel about scalpels. See? This is why I don't like coming to doctor's offices.

She scurries around gathering things and discussing the best way to do this. I'm thinking I really don't need to be privy to her thoughts right now. But I nod and try to follow along. Then she declares it would be best if I lay on my stomach while she cuts away on my foot. Yeah, that's a great idea. That way I can't see what she's doing. I immediately flip over. Then she leaves the room.

COME ON NOW! Don't tell me you're gonna cut me & then walk away. The exam table becomes quite uncomfortable about now! I shimmey up a little. Now my head is hanging off the table. Nope. This ain't working. I shimmey down. Now my back is starting to hurt. I slide down a little further and decide this is tolerable. About then she walks back in the room, almost humming. I can tell she's having a good time. I'm glad one of us is.

Then she announces that she thinks what needs to be done is so small she can probably do it without anesthesia. Oh sure, I think. My feet are so ticklish I have no control about holding them still. Sure, let's just go ahead and try that! She says if she keeps one hand on my foot, she thinks it will help. I'm beyond wondering at this point. I nod numbly and think, whatever.

But it really wasn't that bad. She slices and cuts away--this is not a big procedure, lest you think I'm a masochist or something. Then she starts inspecting more of my foot and declares that she needs tweezers. She leaves the room again. My back is really starting to ache.

Then I hear her going down the hall, yelling joyfully, "I'm doing surgery!" A nurse must have passed her in the hall, because I hear her say, "Joyce, I'm doing surgery!" You would have thought from the tone of her voice she was getting a piece of candy or something.

She comes back, finishes fixing what is wrong and I sit up. Then she tells me to wait while she tells the nurse to draw blood. Oh Lordy. I forgot about this aspect. Now I get to wait for needles.

About 10 minutes later the nurse returns and explains that she's sorry, but she's very busy with a couple rooms next to me. She hoped I didn't mind. I smiled and said, oh don't worry about me. I have no where better to be today....boy, can I lie good. She seems pleased and says, just relax. Oh yeah, right. Easy for her to say. She's on the other side of the needles.

I say to her, I think I'll lay down. That seems to please her too. She asks if I want the light out. Good God NO! Who knows what will appear in the dark I think. But I politely decline, I don't scream.

This is about the time I remember I can text message on my phone. I suddenly don't care that there's this huge sign on the outside of the office that says in very big letters, "ABSOLUTELY NO CELL PHONE USE IN OFFICE." This isn't technically cell phone use, right? I mean I won't be talking and disturbing anyone. My ringer is turned off so it won't bother anyone. YES! I can do this.

I roll over & grab my phone: my lifeline to reality! I furiously text message away. And wonder of wonders, my friend is on the other end. Ahhh...joy. You know there isn't much you can type on a phone keypad. It's hard to cycle thru all the letters on each key to compose a word, let alone sentence. But I managed. Quite well I think.

And it was calming and comforting to me to know there was someone on the other end, outside this sterile medical world where I really didn't want to be. I'm getting a little faster at this key cycle thing now. Then she returns.

I put the phone down. She asks if I want to move to a chair. I shake my head. She says she needs a table for her stuff, and did I mind if she used my stomach! Oh surely she jests? Are you kidding me, I wonder? Needles and tubes and stuff laying on my stomach? But she isn't smiling. She's just waiting for an answer. Sure, I mumble.

So we start. Or rather she starts. I'm just laying there. She arranges stuff and then exclaims, oh dear. I don't have the right tube. And out the door she flies. I think I am never going to get out of this place. And I can't even roll over to reach for my phone again.

She's not gone long tho, and we get thru the blood ordeal. I sit up and think, YES. I'm outta here. But she tells me to sit tight, we still haven't scheduled the ultrasound. It's lunchtime (Oh yes, how well I know that) and there's no one around. I exclaim I'm going to lay back down now. She looks at me rather odd and inquires as to whether I'm ok. I reply I'm just fine, while gritting my teeth. She pats me on the shoulder and say, you just relax now.

At least it's easier to relax when I know there are no more needles or scalpels coming my way. I reach for the phone again. Lovely. My friend is still there. We chat. I am ever so grateful for this connection with the outside world.

Finally she returns and gives me my appointment time. It's Monday. Early morning. I am not a morning person. I scowl. Then I realize, hey, this is in the middle of a holiday week-end. How not fair is that? But I nod and think it's best to get it overwith. Besides I don't want to wait any more while they change it.

I grab my stuff and run to the front desk. There is a person waiting in front of me. And no receptionist. I wait some more. And tap my foot. And sigh. Am I still connected on my phone? I check. Yup. OK, will I get my phone taken away if they see me pecking away on it? I look around. No one is there. More text messaging. Again I am so thankful for this tie to the outside world.

Finally the recpetionist returns. The case in front of me is complicated. Workman's comp or something. It takes forever. Finally she leaves and it is MY turn. Except she can't find my file. She leaves to find the nurse. The nurse doesn't have it. She returns. Then she goes to look for the doctor. The doctor doesn't have it either. I want to fling my $10 co-pay over the counter and run. But I don't. I wait.

After all, isn't that what doctor's offices are for? They don't call us patients for nothing, ya know!
Posted by acp :: 4:33 PM :: 0 Comments:

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