Doogie Howitzer, Peeved

I recently heard that people were asked what their greatest fear was, and most people responded that they feared public speaking – second to this was death.  More people are afraid to speak in public than they are to die – that’s weird to many degrees.

I was told this in a class I attended about witnessing and sharing your faith – which made me think: people would rather die than share their faith… if they went to hell, and hell was filled with your worst fears and torments, then it would likely be filled with podiums.  SO you refuse to speak publicly in life, and then are forced to speak publicly in death – oh that’s just swell!  I don’t like talking in public!

Here’s another catch 22… my greatest fear is being alone – and yet I don’t like being around people.  Pretty spazzy right?

OH and get this… I went to the doctor yesterday, which I had been putting off for like ever.  And I got three of the worst people in the medical industry all in my path.  I swear it was like three black cats walking in front of me in an office full of ladders… with dudes on them installing mirrors, that are all cracked… because my cell phone ringtone was just THAT powerful.  Yeah, like that.

So I am first greeted by angry-snooty-English-receptionist-woman who needed a high colonic or something.  After she verbally motions me over, without making eye contact, I inform her that I am there for an appointment.  He heavy sigh was not unlike one of those old mac trucks that fart next to you at a traffic light.  I present to her my insurance card, which garners another, yet louder, spew of compressed air.  Did she have a leak?  I manage to get her the money she needs for the co-pay and am able to find my seat and wait.  No one ever expressed to her the importance of displaying the joy she gets from helping others and being part of the healing that goes on… which is why she got into the medical field in the first place – to help her fellow man.  Not that she was mannish…

Oh goody!  I don’t have to wait too long before a nurse comes halfway into the waiting room and makes instant eye contact with me – calling my name.  Now THAT is customer service!  We get back to the miniscule room and she begins to take my blood pressure, looking deep into my eyes and hugging my arm against her torso while strapping on the cuff.  Wow, this service is personal!

After asking why I am there ‘today’ I explain my pain and where it is… and how long I’ve had it.  I don’t get my full answer out though.  She interrupts my explanation to go from cheerful to pensive and focusing on her wrist.  “I know what you mean,” she said looking like a puppy someone just kicked, “I just had my fourth wrist reconstruction surgery.”  Ouch – that’s not what I signed up for!  I am just hoping for something less cut-y and open-y.  I go on to explain how I have also been having some foot pain and that my father did also, and he turned out to be diabetic.  “Yeah, I’m diabetic and I feel it in my feet too.”  And then she whimpered a little, while entering my blood pressure stats into the computer.

Wasn’t this visit supposed to be about me?  Other than in my blogs of course, I make pretty much everything about everyone else and try to think of myself last.  Being at the doctor is one of the few times I want it to be all about me… in private with a doctor.

Forget spending much time on those thoughts of self reflection, cause then Specimen-Woman leapt right into how the Seahawks are doing and how they are just fine without Sean Alexander right now – and how he just needs to get better, not re-injuring himself.  Oooookay!  Finally time for her to leave and I sit and wait for about 15 minutes for McDrowsy to find his way into my corner of hell.

Finally he comes in and asks what’s up – to which I try to be as thorough as possible, before he starts feeling my forearms and asking if they hurt to the touch.  Then sits back onto his spin-y barstool and tells me that its just carpel tunnel and how it can be fixed or at least lessened by common sense really.  No, douche bag, I tried THAT.  I tried this and this and this and this and nothing is helping.  Well its still just the one thing and I have to try and make the best of it.

Okay, well I also have this other thing with the foot pain, and I have questions about… he doubts they are related and that I can schedule a physical and they will do a screening for different stuff – but that he pretty much has to get going because I look silly sitting up on the elevated bed with that foil paper crap on it.  (He didn’t say that, but at the speed he was leaving, I can only assume…)

So I make it home with my wife and youngest in tow and we call the doctors office back, and set up the physical – with the doctor in the office next door to McDrowsy.  I call my insurance and change my primary medical provider from him to this new doctor… hoping this one might listen or at least have better bedside manner.

You know I have read other blogs about doctor’s office visits and how their bad experiences were atrocious and I had no great advise for them other than to leave that doctor and find a better one – but when you are IN that situation of sitting there asking for help and understanding… it feels a little powerless.  I was by no means naked and sitting there without the ability to stand up and give him a piece of my mind… so to speak… but I did just sit there and try to get my point across, to no avail.

I’m very disillusioned by my medical experiences.  I can’t wait until its all managed by the government under some new socialized plan.  Cause that’ll make it better for sure!

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