Doctoring it up

After over six weeks of recurring pain in my wrist, I figured it was time to bite the bullet and go see the doctor.

Unlike seeing the Doctor (capital 'D'), which would be cool beyond words, seeing the doctor is something I actively try to minimize or avoid.

I have reasons:

1) I don't like hospitals. I think many people feel this way.

2) Getting to my doctor requires me to go through sketchy-ish areas.

3) I hate waiting.

Waiting is an unfortunate side-effect of any visit to a medical practitioner. My philosophy is pretty simple about how I justify my dislike for that. Everyone else who is visiting a doctor has an ailment. Many of these ailments are likely contagious. The longer I wait around them, the more likely it is that I'll be exposed to whatever they've got.

Ergo, I think it's reasonable for me not to want to be around them. I don't go to the doctor unless I go for a physical or unless I have a chronic, debilitating problem (bleeding out my pores, skin turning green, whatever). Otherwise I let time and rest do its magic. Usually this works.

Six weeks of fairly constant pain told me that time isn't healing whatever is ailing my wrist.

So I took time off of work and trucked dutifully in with a book. I sat. And I waited.

And all the things I hate about HMOs that add to my dread of waiting all saved themselves up to slam me.

- My doctor's staff were on a meeting and came back late. Thus, my being early for my appointment was a waste of time. They didn't get me in to see the doctor 'till well past my appointment time.

- The doc lined me up with all sorts of fun stuff after explaining what he figures the problem is. He gave me a prescription for drugs and a brace. He lined me up for physical therapy.

Physical. Therapy. Argh.

- The brace should've taken three minutes. Tops. A few bucks and - in a normal world - I'd be walking away with a simple velcro-strap brace. Alas, in HMO world, I waited over a half hour.

Why? They lost my paperwork.

[pause for the scream]

- Then the drugs. Oh the line for the drugs was typical. It was even better with the constant computer system crashes. And, just in case I wasn't taking it personally, the system went completely down when I got to the head of the line.

Yep. Perfect timing.

Gets better, too. I had to hang around and get "counseled" on taking my pills. I guess they don't think I can read labels.


Best of all, I got weighed before I got to go see the doctor. For perspective, I was wearing heavy boots and easily ten pounds worth of junk in my pockets.

I was weighed fully-clothed then advised that I'm running a bit on the heavy side based on my BMI.

I admit I've put on pounds since Xmas and I need to shed 'em stat, but I really didn't need the pitying look from the nurse.

On the plus side, everyone was really, really nice in the office. I usually encounter harried and somewhat callous staff when I go to the doctor's officwe, but absolutely everyone was nice, polite, and maintained a good sense of humor about everything.

Took the edge off my irritation a lot.

Venting now? That gets rid of the rest of my irritation.