05.26.2004 - 2:53 p.m.
I've had to visit a doctor twice in the last two weeks, and I am here to say that the experience always fucking blows. I mean, I understand that doctors have to deal with all kinds of stressful shit, and long hours, and hypochondriac patients that visit every other day with a new imagined malady, but for those of us who dread the visit with the sort of ridiculous paranoia that causes yearly pap smears to get ignored for, um, years, I really wish the good M.D.s would put a little effort into trying not to make us feel like whiny sacks of SHIT for wasting their valuable time with our piddly little complaints.
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Who are the people donating magazines to medical offices, and why do they read nothing but Newsweek and Parenting Today? I have yet to breed, so I care not about breastfeeding techniques or How To Get Junior To Share, nor do I want to magnify my already stressful state of mind by viewing those godawful Iraq abuse photos.
Why, oh why, must the Waiting Law exist? Do they pledge it along with the Hippocratic Oath? If the doctor isn't going to see me for upwards of 4 hours, for the love of god, leave me in the main waiting room - don't usher me into that little white sterile capsule of doom for me to sit shivering in that open-backed gown, with a crumpled prostate exam pamphlet as my sole source of entertainment!
Here is what happened with the doctor I saw recently: when he finally, finally gave a brisk rap on the door (to give me notice so I could stop my feverish masturbation? What do they think we're doing in there, other than staring plaintively into space hoping our gowns aren't showing our bra straps?) and walked in, he stopped and took a nice long pause staring at my file before saying "Uh, Sundry? My name is Dr. Trigg."
Now, okay, I don't expect that a doctor I've rarely seen should remember our intimate, thrilling time spent together, but how hard would it be to take a look at the file before entering the room? Maybe during that door-tapping time? It's annoying to be required to make an appointment because of a medication follow-up, then have the doctor gaze at you blankly while flipping through your paperwork. "Soo, we're seeing you today because....?"
Because my prescription says NO REFILL, you aloof god-player! Just write REFILL INFINITY TIMES and I will never darken your doors again!
"Are you exercising?"
This morning I bench-pressed a Humvee using only one arm! I can drop-kick a rhinoceros across the Grand Canyon! I use my thighs to crush walnut shells and South American dictators! Emergency professionals often use my nostrils as the jaws of life!
"Well, not as much as I should, but I'm working on it."
Heh. If "working on it" means "sitting on my caboose watching Sopranos".
"How many drinks do you have per week?"
I drink a keg of beer with breakfast and inject 100-proof vodka into my eyesockets at lunch! In the evenings, I like to relax with a hearty slice of Keith Richards' liver washed down with a gallon jar of mescal-soaked worms!
"Three to five."
I know, I know, it's their job to ask lifestyle questions, but it makes me feel criticized and grouchy as hell. Especially because I'm the one with that degrading gown on, while he's practically wearing a suit of armor with that starchy-ass white coat.
So, doctors! Heed my requests, for they are few!
Don't make me wait all day.
Don't force me to read shit magazines.
Don't, DON'T do that thing where you tap your pen against your teeth in thought.
Don't make me feel like I'm crashing a party by showing up for my damn appointment.
Lastly, don't have your examining room be through the freaking catacombs, past the Minotaur and deep into the bowels of the fucking earth, unless I can leave a damn trail of crumbs or something, because sure as shit once you briefly shake my hand and disappear, I will have no idea where the crap I am and will wander the halls pathetically until finally, hours later, locating the lobby and departing the building in embarrassment.
And you know? I'm one of the extremely lucky ones - I have health insurance.