As you know, my orthopedic doctor appointment was scheduled for 9:00 this morning.
(Fourteen people just clicked away. That first sentence isn’t very compelling, is it? Here. Let’s move faster.)
I shaved my legs this morning.
I dropped the kids off at school and hauled it to my appointment so I wouldn’t be late.
I signed in at 8:55, and then sat down.
At 9:15 I was still sitting. (Three other people were in the waiting room.)
At 9:25 I was still sitting, and starting to feel squirmy.
At 9:30 I went up to the reception desk to ask how late the doctor was running.
Receptionist: There’s one more person in front of you.
Me: Well then, I think I’m just going to go.
Receptionist: Just a second.
(She walked away for a few seconds, and then came back.)
Receptionist: All of his rooms are full.
Me: The thing is, my appointment was scheduled for 30 minutes ago, and history has shown that he’ll spend no more than 5 minutes with me. I don’t want to wait in a SMALLER room for MORE time just to earn 5 minutes of HIS time. I’m going to go.
(I said all of that very nicely, because as soon as I get nervous and stop saying things nicely, my voice gets all shaky and it sounds like I’m going to cry. Every time I spoke during the PTO meetings, it sounded like I was going to cry about the checks I wrote and the balance of our savings account. Such a hoot. But not really. Sometime I’ll tell you about the time I called the cable company and my voice started shaking and then I actually STARTED crying because I couldn’t watch The Food Network or something. My head is filled with monkeys.)
Receptionist: Just a second.
(She walked away.)
Me (to myself): Quietly muttering something under my breath about how he doesn’t inspire my confidence! Nervous shaky voice that sounds like crying, and this doctor has made it clear that he doesn’t care about my ankle because I’M NOT A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE! No one can hear me and I’m starting to look a little bit crazy with my darty eyes and handful of tissues (ALLERGY SEASON!), so it’s time to go now.
And I walked out. And I called my mom and got the name of HER orthopedic guy, and I drove home and called him and his office is close to the girls’ school and HE can see me next Tuesday morning as long as I can get my medical records from the first doctor before then.
Me: Um, so, that might be a little awkward. Don’t you guys take care of that?
New Doctor’s Receptionist: Well, we CAN, but the offices tend to drag their feet if we ask for it. It’s more effective if you pick up the records.
Me: Will they charge me for that?
New Doctor’s Receptionist: No.
So, I called the old doctor’s office and explained that “Hiya! I just rode a high horse out of your office about an hour ago, and now I need a big favor! Medical records! Yee Haw! SorryI’mAnAsshole!”
Medical Records Lady: If you pick them up, there will be a fee.
Me: No! I’m so confused.
Medical Records Lady: If we fax them over to the new office, there is no fee. But you still have to sign a form to release the files. What’s your fax number?
Me: I am a person living in a tiny house with no fax machine.
Medical Records Lady: Then I can either mail the form to you, or you can come to the office and sign it.
Tomorrow morning I’ll be making the drive BACK to the doctor’s office so I can track down the medical records lady and sign the form to allow my records to be faxed to the new office. (If I actually TAKE the records to save them the trouble of faxing them, I will be charged a fee.) After signing the form, I will drive straight to Target and purchase 14 hula hoops, and I will spend the afternoon setting them on fire and jumping through them. Because that’s how it feels.
(And I know everyone is doing their best and that this is no one’s fault.)
((Except for President Obama. It’s totally his fault.))
(((It’s not really his fault.)))