A few weeks ago (that seems to be a theme in my recent posts) a bunch of camp friends and I were going to go to the Minnesota State Fair. I was really excited because I haven't been there in six years, and I really love food on sticks, especially if it's deep fried. However, my involvement in the plan hit a snag.
Since this was near the end of August and school was right around the corner, I decided I should probably check my school email. I hadn't done that since shortly after Summer had started. Sure enough, I had a decent amount of emails, though most of them weren't important. There was one, however, with a bunch of medical stuff that I needed to get done before classes started. Fortunately, I had gotten a physical before Summer started and I was up to date on all my immunizations. However, it said I needed to get a TB test. I had not had one of those ever. For a TB test, you get a little shot right under the surface of your skin. Between 48 and 72 hours later, you go back and get it checked. If there are no bumps around the area you got the shot, you're good to go. The 48-72 hour thing was the major setback, because I read this email on Wednesday, and the State Fair outing was to be on Friday. I set up an appointment for 2:00 on Wednesday, meaning I'd have to wait until 2:00 on Friday to get it checked. We were meeting at 11:00 at the Fair on Friday. Clearly, I would be late, especially considering my appointment was in Litchfield, which is an hour and a half away from the Fairgrounds in the cities. "Oh well," I thought. "At least I'll get to be there for a few hours."
When I got to the doctor's office on Friday, I was told to sit in the waiting room, as is the standard protocol for doctor's office visits. It turned out that they forgot about me, apparently, because I waited for over an hour, which is really fun at the doctor's office because they have...um, magazines! So I read the "ESPN The Magazine" magazine all the way through, then read the longest article over again. I also sat and listened to the old people talk. It is a fact that over 80% of people in a doctor's office at any given time are old. I mean like "over 70" old. One old lady also had to wait for a while, apparently, because she was upset. A nurse finally came for her, and I could hear the lady as she walked back to the room: "I am very upset. I have been waiting and waiting. I am very upset."
"I know, I understand. We're sorry for the inconvenience. Now if you could just step on the scale and we'll measure your height and weight..."
"I came in two days ago and I had to do that. I won't do it. I will. Not. Do it."
"Okay, well, we'll just get your weight then."
After starting that really long magazine article (which was about Matt Kemp of the Dodgers, so I wasn't even that interested in it) for a third time, I decided I should probably see what was going on with my wait. I went up to the receptionist and said, "Excuse me, I've been waiting for over an hour, and all I need is to get my TB test checked."
"You're still here?! I told the nurses three different times that you were ready! I'll take care of this." She left, and I went back to sit. I felt like I handled that really well considering I was furious because I just wanted to eat food on sticks. About a minute later, a nurse hurried in and called my name. The appointment literally took one minute. I held out my arm, she ran her hand over it and said, "Okay, you're good," and I left. It was about 3:30 when I finally left. I pulled out my directions to the Fairgrounds and began my journey. Unfortunately, my directions were from google. You'd think I'd have learned by now. I followed them perfectly until it was literally impossible to do that. They told me to turn left on some street South, but follow the signs for some street North. I couldn't even...I didn't...I had no idea what google was trying to pull, so I just turned left. I drove past the Fairgrounds and ended up parked in some cul-de-sac. I called some camp folk and asked how much longer they would be there. They were just getting ready to leave, which was fine because then I didn't have to pay for parking. They said they were looking for some place to meet up and just hang out, though, which was perfect because I really wanted to see them. We met at a Perkins and ate. Me more so than everyone else because I had anticipated eating a ton of food on sticks and, thanks to the ACMC in Litchfield, MN, I was unable to do that.
Showing posts with label doctor's office. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doctor's office. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Doctor's Office
The other day I had a doctor appointment. Not a big deal, right? Well, it was my first trip to the doctor's office in five years. Oh, still not a big deal? I'm going to write about it, anyway - deal with it.
One day a few weeks ago, I was shirtless in my house. My step-mom pointed to a birth mark on my back. "What's that?"
"Oh, that's just a birth mark."
"No, it looks like you got smacked or something."
"I know, but it's just a birth mark. I don't know what this is though," I said, pointing to a mole-looking bump on my side.
"You should get that checked out. An irregular mole? Yeah, you should get that checked out."
Fast forward to last week. I still hadn't made a doctor's appointment. This time my dad weighed in, too. He said I should get a physical since I hadn't had one since my sophomore year of high school, which was actually the last time I went to the doctor. He also suggested that I should get my cholesterol checked - he's pretty concerned about cholesterol and blood pressure and stuff since he had his heart attack last year. Incidentally, my doctor appointment was on the one year anniversary of my dad's heart attack. Yeah. So, there's that.
I arrived at the doctor's office and I was a little nervous because I had to talk to the receptionist lady. I had never done that before and I was afraid I may make a mistake in giving information. That's not an irrational fear for me, because I don't know my mom's address, and I don't know my dad's home phone number. Anticipating the phone number question, I opened my phone and went to "Dad Home" in my contacts. When the question was asked, I discretely read the number. Works every time.
I waited for a few minutes in the waiting room, as is customary, before a nurse called my name. She took me back to a room and I filled out a little questionnaire thing. Revealing that I had asthma gave me another questionnaire to fill out. After those were completed, the nurse left and said she'd tell the doctor I was ready.
The doctor came in and asked why I was there. "Why am I here?" I thought. "I feel like you should know why I'm here. I feel like the receptionist with whom I scheduled this appointment would tell you why I'm here. What kind of doctor's office is this? Where did you get your degree?" Instead of saying that, though, I smiled and said "Well, I'm here for a physical and I want to get a mole checked and my dad wants me to get my cholesterol checked, too."
"A physical, eh? Is this for sports, or..."
"No, just because I haven't been to the doctor in a long time."
"Huh. After the sports physical in high school, we usually don't see you until you're in your 40's having trouble breathing."
He wanted to start with the mole, since that would be the quickest. I lifted up my shirt and showed him. He leaned in really close, then took off his glasses. I was under the impression that glasses help people see, but I didn't say anything. He is a doctor, after all. Then he leaned back and said, "Hmmm. Yup, it's a fwibedibedoo..." He didn't actually say "fwibedibedoo," but it was some scientific name that I can't remember. That's all he said, though. So after a few silent seconds I asked, "Umm, what's that mean?"
"Oh, it's just a mass of nerves and scar tissue. You can have it removed if you want, but it won't do any harm to leave it." Huh, well, that's that, I suppose.
Then the physical started. He asked me what sort of health issues ran in my family. What? I have no idea. I'm no family historian. I don't even know if that's a thing. Look, doc, I don't ask my parents, "Hey, do you remember great-grandma? What sort of health problems did she have?" Also, apparently, if it's only happened once in your family, that counts as "running in the family." I answered the question with, "Uhh...I don't know. I mean, my dad had a heart attack last year, but - "
"A heart attack? Well, let's give him credit for that!" and he typed that into his computer. Okay, now, apparently, heart attacks run in my family.
We went through the rest of the physical, and the doctor never actually said I was healthy, but he didn't say I was unhealthy, either, so I guess no news is good news. He then took me to a separate waiting room and said someone would come by shortly and test my cholesterol. Sure enough, a few minutes later, another nurse came and took me back to a room.
As I turned the corner to the room and took in my environment, I thought, "Huh, this looks like a place where blood is drawn..." I'd never had my cholesterol tested before, and for some reason I thought it would be like a blood pressure thing where they just strap something on your arm and voila - done. I'm not afraid of needles or anything, but I do need a minute to mentally prepare. I mean, it's a needle being jabbed into my vein, sucking precious blood from my body. The thought makes me cringe. Unfortunately, I didn't have that minute. It was just, "You can take a seat right here," dab iodine or whatever on my arm, "Look away. 1, 2, 3, poke!" and there was a needle in my vein, snatchin' my blood up. My arm hurt for the next day, which I don't think is normal. I haven't passed out, though, so there's that.
One day a few weeks ago, I was shirtless in my house. My step-mom pointed to a birth mark on my back. "What's that?"
"Oh, that's just a birth mark."
"No, it looks like you got smacked or something."
"I know, but it's just a birth mark. I don't know what this is though," I said, pointing to a mole-looking bump on my side.
"You should get that checked out. An irregular mole? Yeah, you should get that checked out."
Fast forward to last week. I still hadn't made a doctor's appointment. This time my dad weighed in, too. He said I should get a physical since I hadn't had one since my sophomore year of high school, which was actually the last time I went to the doctor. He also suggested that I should get my cholesterol checked - he's pretty concerned about cholesterol and blood pressure and stuff since he had his heart attack last year. Incidentally, my doctor appointment was on the one year anniversary of my dad's heart attack. Yeah. So, there's that.
I arrived at the doctor's office and I was a little nervous because I had to talk to the receptionist lady. I had never done that before and I was afraid I may make a mistake in giving information. That's not an irrational fear for me, because I don't know my mom's address, and I don't know my dad's home phone number. Anticipating the phone number question, I opened my phone and went to "Dad Home" in my contacts. When the question was asked, I discretely read the number. Works every time.
I waited for a few minutes in the waiting room, as is customary, before a nurse called my name. She took me back to a room and I filled out a little questionnaire thing. Revealing that I had asthma gave me another questionnaire to fill out. After those were completed, the nurse left and said she'd tell the doctor I was ready.
The doctor came in and asked why I was there. "Why am I here?" I thought. "I feel like you should know why I'm here. I feel like the receptionist with whom I scheduled this appointment would tell you why I'm here. What kind of doctor's office is this? Where did you get your degree?" Instead of saying that, though, I smiled and said "Well, I'm here for a physical and I want to get a mole checked and my dad wants me to get my cholesterol checked, too."
"A physical, eh? Is this for sports, or..."
"No, just because I haven't been to the doctor in a long time."
"Huh. After the sports physical in high school, we usually don't see you until you're in your 40's having trouble breathing."
He wanted to start with the mole, since that would be the quickest. I lifted up my shirt and showed him. He leaned in really close, then took off his glasses. I was under the impression that glasses help people see, but I didn't say anything. He is a doctor, after all. Then he leaned back and said, "Hmmm. Yup, it's a fwibedibedoo..." He didn't actually say "fwibedibedoo," but it was some scientific name that I can't remember. That's all he said, though. So after a few silent seconds I asked, "Umm, what's that mean?"
"Oh, it's just a mass of nerves and scar tissue. You can have it removed if you want, but it won't do any harm to leave it." Huh, well, that's that, I suppose.
Then the physical started. He asked me what sort of health issues ran in my family. What? I have no idea. I'm no family historian. I don't even know if that's a thing. Look, doc, I don't ask my parents, "Hey, do you remember great-grandma? What sort of health problems did she have?" Also, apparently, if it's only happened once in your family, that counts as "running in the family." I answered the question with, "Uhh...I don't know. I mean, my dad had a heart attack last year, but - "
"A heart attack? Well, let's give him credit for that!" and he typed that into his computer. Okay, now, apparently, heart attacks run in my family.
We went through the rest of the physical, and the doctor never actually said I was healthy, but he didn't say I was unhealthy, either, so I guess no news is good news. He then took me to a separate waiting room and said someone would come by shortly and test my cholesterol. Sure enough, a few minutes later, another nurse came and took me back to a room.
As I turned the corner to the room and took in my environment, I thought, "Huh, this looks like a place where blood is drawn..." I'd never had my cholesterol tested before, and for some reason I thought it would be like a blood pressure thing where they just strap something on your arm and voila - done. I'm not afraid of needles or anything, but I do need a minute to mentally prepare. I mean, it's a needle being jabbed into my vein, sucking precious blood from my body. The thought makes me cringe. Unfortunately, I didn't have that minute. It was just, "You can take a seat right here," dab iodine or whatever on my arm, "Look away. 1, 2, 3, poke!" and there was a needle in my vein, snatchin' my blood up. My arm hurt for the next day, which I don't think is normal. I haven't passed out, though, so there's that.
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