Pardon me gentle readers as I digress from our typical topic of politics, although god knows I haven't exactly been verbose on the topic of late. There has been so much back and forth, most of it mindless about the health care debate for the past several months that I have been only too willing to tune it out. Today's little ditty touches on the healthcare topic, but not quite in the vein that our beloved politicians have been tossing about since before Santa squeezed his fat ass down the chimney.
So, today's post is going to get a bit personal, I promise to not get graphic or icky, after all some of you may be delicate. I am going to talk about my yearly visit to the lady doctor. For those of you who aren't female, we of the xx chromosome persuasion are expected to visit the lady doctor on an annual basis and get our girly bits checked out. While I know you men have to go groped in the giblets, trust me, it ain't the same. But I promised not to be graphic.
When I called several weeks ago, after realizing that my normal time of year for this appointment had come and gone with no note from the lady doctor to remind me, I was told that my doctor of the past five-ish years had left the practice. So I picked someone who I saw once during the rotation during my pregnancy with the spawn. This doctor had seemed pleasant enough and I figured it was no big deal.
I arrived 15 minutes early as requested. I waited. After about half an hour, the nurse called my name and took me back to get my blood pressure, height and weight. Ms. Personality asked me no other questions and took no other information. This took maybe five minutes. She then asked me to wait in another waiting room. Almost 45 minutes go by this time and I am finally escorted to the examination room. I don my lovely little gown and sit beneath my paper sheet, eager to share my private parts with someone new. At least another fifteen minutes go by. Finally the doctor enters, shakes my hand, says nice to meet you. She asks me a brief question or two and then begins the exam. She finishes, asks if there is anything else, hands over my chart and leaves. In all, she saw me for five minutes.
Listen, I get that doctors are busy. And she apologize for keeping me waiting. But when the lady who does my bikini wax spends more time in my nether regions than my gynecologist, something is seriously wrong. I had met this lady only once, she obviously didn't remember me (which is fine and to be expected), but to not take the time to a) meet me with my FREAKIN' clothes on and b) to ask me a bit about me and my medical history is flat wrong.
The spouse asked, "Did you expect her to take you out to dinner, like a date?" Well, no, but back in the day when I was dating, a dude had to do a bit more than just make me wait almost two hours and ask me how my birth control of choice was working for me. Admittedly my standards weren't super high back then, but I had some self-respect.
So I think I will be shopping for a new doctors office. I mean, if you are going to stick your head in my crotch, I at least expect you to make a bit of small talk first. I don't think that is asking too much.
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4 comments:
Although I don't have a lady doctor, I'm with you on this. If nothing else, she could have at least thanked you for waiting. I think it should go the other way around--doctors should have to wait in offices to interview patients until we are ready to see them. Then we give them 5 minutes to accurately diagnose our condition, and then if they get it wrong, they're fined and fired! Same with the cable guy--make him wait in his truck from 1pm to 3pm until I get to my house!
I'm sure I've told you my eye doctor nightmare. Short version--I changed doctors. Go for it!
"Groped in the giblets"--you have a way with words.
wow--that's a helluva wait. i've never understood the waiting on docotors thing, ever. and, i'd look for another doctor too if i were you. my lady appt is coming up in feb. hope it's not like yours. welcome back to blogging.
Yes, you should get the hell away from that gyno. And send them a note saying that in the age of so-called personalized medicine that a doctor needs to have more personal skills than a spatula flipping a pancake (although now that I think about it, this was not the wisest choice of metaphor). Sandie had to change gynos for much the same reason. Made her feel like yelling into the stethoscope, "Hey! I'm human! This ain't an anatomy exam in your second-year class!"
thank you all for humoring my little digression, lord knows the spouse is sick and tired of hearing me complain.
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