So here is my story. About four months ago I decide that I should try and see a specialist (1) about this thing. So I go and look up the list of doctors that deal with this thing that are covered by my insurance. And there are four of them. So I go down the list and call and, in turn, the first three receptionists tell me they aren’t taking new patients. Not a good sign but I am intrepid. I call the last on the list and they can see me, in four months. So I make the appointment. I tell the person getting my information what I want to be seen for and they say, sure, come on over in four months.
Last night is the day before the long-awaited appointment. And like I do, when I’m trying to go to sleep, I’m totally obsessing about this appointment. It is like Christmas for a six-year old except without presents. I’ve been waiting for a long time and I’m anxious about what they are going to want to test for and what they might discover and all that and so I toss and turn and get maybe three hours of sleep.
So finally the long awaited day comes and I go to the doctor’s office. The waiting room is tiny and dimly lit. The go through the deal with me signing more papers and copying my insurance card and having me wait in the first room and then moving me into the second waiting room where the doctor will eventually see me. The room where I am asked to wait for the doctor (2) has about the same square footage of other rooms of this type but it is crammed with stuff. There is the examination bed, two regular chairs and then this crazy 1970s style ergonomic backless chair with a makeshift table attached to it. I literally have to walk sideways to get to the seat. This room is maybe three stacks of newspapers away from being a hoarders episode. And here I wait.
The specialist finally arrives. He looks to be about 300 years old, about 4 foot 11 and maybe 85 pounds. As required of old men, his pants are hiked up to his armpits, barely leaving the pocket in his shirt that holds no fewer than 12 pens visible. He has his white doctor’s coat on and has his auxiliary pens in that pocket as well. I have seen my fair share of doctor’s over my lifetime. Typically, when they enter the room, they greet you and ask what I am here to see them about. No big surprise but this was not the case with Dr. McOldy. He walked in, said hello, I said hello back and he then sat down in his goofy ergonomic backless chair, opened my file, put a nice crease down the middle of it and stared at it in silence for a good two minutes. After this moment of mediation, he cleared his throat and said that he isn’t really enthusiastic about trying to work with patients with the thing I have. Which is super funny because the insurance list showed him as being someone to see about this thing. He blah, blah blahed on for a little bit and then said that he bet that I was wondering why they had me come down in the first place, given his disposition on this matter. I felt that was a valid question. He was unable to provide an answer. After some more of his blah, blah, blahing, I stood up and suggested that “we were done here” and left.
