Warning: Excessive ranting follows.
I’ve been sick since before Mardi Gras. Since the last week in February. It got really bad when I got home on March 1 and I went to the doctor. I couldn’t see my regular doctor, so I saw some old guy in the same office instead.
At my first mention that I went home to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, he quit being friendly with me and gave me the “Well that’s what you get for going to participate in that sort of thing” treatment. I’ve gotten this a few times before, most notably my old boss at a contracting company which formerly employed me. This doctor prescribed some antibiotics and some cough medicine and sent me home. Not once did he ask if I was exposed to any mold, fungus, or who-knows-what-else while I was in New Orleans. Not once did he ask about my family, even after I told him my parents lived in New Orleans.
I chaulked up the shoddy service to this guy being an asshole and took the antibiotics.
The cough never went away.
So I went back to the doctor, a month later. This time I was able to get an appointment to see my regular doctor. Calling her my regular doctor is funny, since I have only seen her once before, one year ago. Since then I have seen two other doctors at the same office, but never the doctor listed on my insurance card as my primary care physician.
I walked in and went to the check-in desk. Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: Hi, I’m hear to see Dr. X.
Recptionist: Hi, I see you were hear at the beginning of the month to see Dr. Y.
Me: Yes, I haven’t gotten any better since then.
Receptionist: So what are you in for today?
Me: (louder) I just said I haven’t gotten any better since the last time I came in.
At this point, she got offended. I really didn’t care. She wasn’t listening to me anyway.
Continue reading On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?