Now, We’re On MY TIME … Here is YOUR Bill

I’m definitely getting some mileage out of that clock frame (recognize it?).  Anyway, this particular post deals with a situation that occurred a couple of days ago.  It isn’t often I have so many post possibilities just dropping in my lap – probably have material for next month’s quota already.  Unfortunately, this topic was not actually a good experience.  Some of you already know this observation per a lunchtime conversation, but I’ll go ahead and set the stage for the teeming millions out there who haven’t heard it yet.

My wife is cursed with cysts that grow from time to time on her scalp.  This appears to be a hereditary thing and very thankful my family side is normal.. I mean… don’t have to experience these lumpy annoyances.  Finally deciding it was time to remove the one on the top of her forehead (just into the hairline), Linda made an appointment with our doctor to get it removed.  The “our” part of that is fairly loose since I am constantly trying to convince myself to find someone else, but Linda has been with him for a long time and wants to stay with him.  One of the main reasons I have about had it with him is his inability to keep a schedule.  It is not uncommon to run an hour or so behind schedule (uncommon should probably be more like every time).  One of the reasons for this is the amount of time he spends with his patients.  He’ll actually take the time to hear all your concerns, symptoms, make sure you understand the prescriptions etc.  This is the part Linda likes and the honestly the part I can do without.  Me: Throat hurts, look down it, tell me if strep, if so give meds, goodbye.   Since this can take hours to get through, I tend to just go to a close prompt care and get it over with.  Over the years, I have a pretty good idea of when something isn’t right and when it is important enough to seek professional attention (which is rare beyond the muscular/tendon injuries from athletics in which case I have the local ortho-surgeons on speed dial).  I also strongly believe that spending any time in a waiting room puts you at about 500% more likely to catch something WORSE that what you came in to have looked at.  Thus the irksome schedule problem complaint and when you are fine but taking your wife it… I think you get the picture.  Let me get back on track.  Linda’s appointment was at 4:30pm.  Do to myself having an MRI on a knee the day before, I wanted to get a few things done to get caught back up at work.  This took me until 3:32, so I literally ran to my car and made the 30 minute trek home to pick her up.  I raced into the driveway, spent a minute dropping myself off and was back on the road for the 30 minute trek to the doctor’s office – oh, the country life!  For the record, we walked into the waiting room at 4:37pm (yes, I made sure I checked).  There were about 5 or 6 other patients in the room waiting to see the same doctor.

Quiz Time!  Take a guess as to what time Linda’s name was called to go through the waiting room door to begin the second wait cycle in the room?  longer… nope, longer…  guess again… give up?  Answer: at 7:30pm they called her name.

I am guessing for the record, I will be dead in about a week from the number of germs that permeated my defenses over that long of a period.  Thank god for the iTouch and endless games of Bejeweled and the latest Ann Coulter audio book.  the wait wasn’t without its interesting observations.  I had the opportunity to listen to two old ladies critic every article in the latest People magazine – they were visibly appalled by a nose ring being worn by one of the article subjects.  Then something strange started happening that I have yet to figure out a reasonable explanation – your comments are welcome.  The order of the events is a little sketchy because of fading in and out of wait hell, but near as can be strung together between Linda and I:

  • Two older ladies (they were together) finally get called to go to the exam room
  • Apparently something had happened earlier and a 20-something woman enters the waiting room, goes up to the check in desk and says “Another nurse told me to come back here”
  • Not sure when, but she ends up on the exam room side of the waiting room doors
  • All of a sudden I hear a commotion, the 20-something woman flies out of the exam room area, traverses through the waiting room area and slams open the entry door and storms out.  (note, it seemed to me she was dressed like a nurse, but Linda is unable to confirm)
  • A couple of minutes later, the head nurse comes out and proceeds to start hurriedly walking after her
  • Then the two old ladies come back out and apparently the older one is being sent directly to the emergency room.  (oops forgot, they were commenting on the fact this lady looked a little pale before she headed back to the room)
  • As they were making their way out of the waiting room, the doctor comes out and helps them get on their way and informs them he already has a room waiting for them at the hospital and to simply go to the emergency room to get checked in.
  • Then all hell starts breaking loose
  • A security guard ends up coming into the waiting room and proceeds back to the exam room area
  • About 10 minutes later he leaves, but as he passes through the exit door, I hear the doctor call out his name and a somewhere down the hall another door opens and the next thing I see is the doctor pass the doorway heading towards the security guard.
  • By this time, our stomachs were growling in pain so I (as the male) went off to kill us something for food.  Let me tell you, I kicked and kicked that vending machine until it coughed up something for us to eat.
  • As I was walking back past the catwalk I look out and there is our doctor, the security guard and the upset lady arguing in the middle of the parking lot.
  • By this time it was a quest to see when this lump was going to be set free and no way was I going to reschedule and start the wait cycle over.

Eventually, they called Linda’s name (as previously noted, at 7:30pm), about 8:05, the doctor comes out and informs me that it was successfully removed, but had difficulty working around all her hair (which he was envious of) and put three stitches in it.  He also informed me that it looked like a standard cyst and therefore wasn’t going to bother to have it tested (I was in agreement).  About 15 minutes later, Linda comes out looking like a Zombie Mole had gotten to her brains.  There was a significant amount of blood and iodine embedded in her hair from the procedure and thinking it was going to bother me to look at, had spent time trying to wash it out in the sink.  We continue to argue about this, but for the official record, it’s the NEEDLES that bother me, not so much the blood …. unless it is mine in which case I am convinced I need every single drop of my own blood and tend to get a little anxious when it happens to be pouring out of me like a leaky drain.

So that’s the story folks – a 4 hour doctor appointment, old people complaining about the stylish choices of the younger generation, a crazy woman apparently wronged in some manner and a Zombie Mole attack.  The only thing left is to write up a bill for MY time to submit to the doctor for costing me an entire night of working on the bridge.