A Visit to a Doctor and Waiting Rooms Inspires a Light-Hearted Post

Photo from my visit to the doctor's office today.

Went to a medical specialist today for the first time and had to fill out forms before I was seen. I’ve always liked filling out forms and telling sheets of paper all about myself. It feeds my ego, centers me and reminds me of who I am. Like that I’m a male, married, no allergies, no history of heart trouble, have an address and a phone number and my missus is my emergency contact.

All three forms asked me for today’s date and on two of them I had to write it twice. According to my rudimentary math that’s a total of five times that I wrote 12/04/19. The weird thing is that after I proudly turned in the forms and collected my just copied health insurance card and photo ID I had a seat (the doctor would be with me in just a minute) and my first thought was: what’s today’s date? Oh yeah, the fourth. Maybe that’s not so much weird as it is a sign of early senility.

As I pondered the mysteries of my brain I was summoned by the nurse and directed to a room where — and stop me if you’ve heard this one before — my blood pressure was taken. You walk into a doctor’s office to settle a bill and they’ll take your blood pressure. People in white frocks really get their jollies from taking blood pressure. Hell I could tell them what mine is. They trusted me on my height and weight but blood pressure, no sir, they need to see that for themselves.

I did not have an interminable wait for the doctor. This is not the usual state of affairs. This specialist was an older, shorter gentlemen who looked for all the world like a retired accountant. Looks aren't everything. He took a look at the area of my body that was afflicted, probed, examined, speculated, asked questions and diagnosed. I go back in three weeks to see how things are going. So it goes.

I’d originally gone to my primary care physician two weeks ago to have this seen about. My appointment was right after lunch, 1:30. Despite the fact that I was the first appointment after lunch I was not led to a room until five minutes had passed and despite the fact that I was the first appointment after lunch I waited another fiver in the little room. What’s up with that? Are they required by law to make you wait? I was the first appointment of the day a few months back and had to wait. One gets used to it, but still. It would be nice just once to be whisked right in and have the doc waiting for me.

Here’s a question I’ve pondered.  Doctor sees you and — irrespective of your particular issue — asks you that friendly, how are you? Do you just give them a, “fine” and then when prompted give the reason for your visit which will reveal that you are not in fact “fine?”  Is the how-are-you just an extension of, hello, or is it meant to be taken seriously? For the many years I visited psychiatrists I noted that they never started with the how-are -you because the point of the whole session was to talk about how you were. They would usually just nod. I don't mean to sound all Holden Caulfiedly but shrinks are great goddamn nodders, lemme tell ya.

Speaking of waiting (which we just in fact were) I had a doozy of a wait at the dermatologist’s office a few months back. They were instituting a brand new check-in system and a new way to store patient information that was going to make your every visit so much more efficient. Hah! People of all ages were struggling with the iPads we were issued as we checked in. Making heads and tails of each section of our medical history and insurance information was like a five year old learning excel. Staff had to come out into the waiting room and give tutorials and trouble shoot and lend CPR to patients having heart attacks over the damn things. Meanwhile the receptionists were struggling with their own computers and there were two tech people working their asses off to help them. Isn't it great when people modernize?

By the time I was seen it was 45 minutes past my scheduled time. The nurse said, “thank you for waiting.” I tried not to sound snarky as I replied, “I didn’t have much choice.”

Frankly, I’m sick and — you guessed it — tired of being thanked for waiting or for being patient — especially when I haven’t been the least bit patient at all. As long time readers of this blog (I’m looking at you Mrs. Manicotti of Seacaucus, New Jersey) know I’m semi-retired and teach one morning class at an ESL school a short walk from my abode. One morning a colleague and I arrived before either of the school administrators so we had to cool our heels outside the building for a few minutes. When the school director arrived with the keys he said, “thanks for waiting.” What? Did he think it would have been reasonable for us to have turned around and gone home? What the hell else were we going to do but wait? I’d have preferred a “sorry I’m late.” But, hey, that’s me.

As I write these words I’m typing on my computer (but you knew that) and I’d just like to thank anyone who bothered to read this all the way to the end. I’m about to read it but I have an excuse: I’ll be proofreading this and with a fine tooth comb extracting any and all typos.

By the way, what the hell is fine tooth comb?