Friday, August 04, 2006


Pardon my French. Another day shot to ruin, this time by the ever-popular doctor's appointment.

Just what the heck is the matter with some doctor's offices? My mother's doctors run from one extreme to the other. On the one hand is the anal-compulsive Hun who throws temper tantrums if you arrive one minute late. Actually, he and I get along fine because I'm anal-compulsive about arriving on time. I never mind going to those appointments because I know I will be in early, out early, and back home in an hour (barring road work).

On the other hand is the little lady doctor for whom appointments are just wishful thinking. We've sat as long as two hours in her waiting room before getting into an exam room, where you could end up waiting another hour. Unless you throw a royal temper tantrum and leave loudly as I did a couple of visits ago. Remarkably, they managed to get us in and seen within half an hour on our last visit. Sometimes the squeaky wheel does get the grease.

Don't even mention the word "emergency". I understand emergencies. I understand when they tell you as you arrive that there was an emergency. My patience tolerance doubles when I'm told that on the way in. But don't tell me an hour after I arrive. And don't try giving me that baloney in a dermatology office, which really happened to me once upon a time. A dermatology emergency? Please. How stupid do I look? Don't answer that.

My normal patience tolerance is one hour past arrival. And I think that's generous. There's no reason why the entire world manages to run on schedule and doctors' offices can't. They just don't want to.

So, anyway, we finally got in after I rattled the receptionist's cage a little. Now, why the heck can't people who design doctor's offices figure out that some of their patients are going to arrive in wheelchairs and provide enough manuevering room to get into the exam room without the pusher of same having to go into contortions and ending up with bruised knees? Jeez.


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

It is just so hard being a doctor...I mean, how in the world do you get a decent game of golf squeezed in amongst all of the whining little people that pay the bills...
R.M. Ging