Doctor, Doctor, Can't You See I'm Wearning, Wearning

Seriously, how many people give you music to listen to while you read their blog?

Everyone dislikes going to the doctor, right?  It means that you are either a) feeling like shit and don't want to leave the house or b) it is a routine check up, physical, or medicine check that it is a pain in the ass to go there in the middle of the day.

So, my excuse this time around was that I needed to update my meds and get some prescriptions filled.  So I dutifully made my appointment a few days before, and of course, the only time available was right in the middle of the day, so I had to go to work, then drive back to Castle Rock, then drive back to work when it was done.

I go in there and I walk up to the front desk to sign in.  Maria, the front desk chick asks "Your name?"  No please, no fuck yourself, just "your name?"  Being in a randy mood, I paused and said to her "I have been going here for 10 years and you don't know my name?"  Her curt reply was "no".  Uh huh.

Now something to keep in mind before I explain to you why my doctor's office is incompetent.  I have been going there about 10 years (important fact).  It is an office completely controlled by women (no implications there, just a fact).  Once, when I asked for a refill, they routed it to another doctor who had to fill out a substantiation form and send it back to the insurance company.  In that form, the ill-suited replacement doctor put that I had basically had a stroke and therefore shouldn't get this medication that my doctor prescribed.  She wrote in on the side "possible".  Why?  No fucking clue, but insurance companies do not look for "possible", they look at yes or no.  So that took me a complete MONTH to get it fixed.

Maria, yes, the same How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria, when Steve was really, really sick and I took him there for Quote Urgent Care, she first didn't do shit about him sitting there almost passing out in the chair in the waiting room.  She thought it was I that was ill.  No bother that I told her that MY PARTNER was sick.  First impressions I guess don't last so long (since she had no clue who I was, let alone Steve, and according to her, she had never seen me before in her life).  So he had to come up to the desk and say "I got to lie down before I pass out" before the office learned the true meaning of Urgent Care.  Then...THEN!  She followed us into the examination room to tell me that I had to come back to the front desk so that I could pay.  Well, it was almost 6 pm and they were going to close in an hour.  Guess she had things to do.  But seriously, following me? 

I guess the song is over by now.  Feel free to replay or find your own damn soundtrack.

Spotlight off of Maria, focus to the real doctor (or was he a physician's assistant?  Are there any real doctors at this joint?) who did the obligatory once over on Steve, who was seriously delirious by now, no clue that he was yelling "help me, fucking help me" to no one in particular.  I think that shattered the pristine Christian sensibilities of the medical "professional", since he gave Steve some pain meds and then disappeared for an hour.

By this time, the office had closed so everyone was getting antsy, and the pain killers were not working.  Here is the fine medical advice the dude gave us.  Go to an ER.  Really?  Fucking REALLY?  Shit, I could have done that in the first place.

So, back to the other day.  Now that I am at the office, checked in, reading e-mail on my phone that, according to signs posted everywhere stating I should not have on, I get called to the examination room by the British nurse with the perma-frown.  Oh, I don't like this chick AT ALL.  At least she doesn't reek of cigarettes like some of the other nurses.  She does the blood pressure, temperature, all that, and then goes down the list of my meds from the chart.  To expedite this process, I have prepared a list of everything and just hand it to her.  Fine, perma-scowl is out the door.  Time to see the doctor.

So the doc walks in, and she is actually a nurse practitioner.  She has been good to me, and she seems to always remember my name, however the chart gives her a clue beforehand, so I let her pass.  I go over what I want, and she gives me samples and writes the scripts, however she wants to call them in instead of writing it all down.  Lazy, I guess.  I bitch a little about the office, can't seem to let that go, and I am done.

The next day I call Target to tell them which ones I want filled.  Too late!  Doctor lady did not tell them that I wouldn't need them all right now, so they filled all of them.  Except the one that I really needed, because she didn't (forgot, neglected, conspired, you choose) tell them that one medicine.  Now they got to call the office back, wait the couple days for the office to get back to them, and on and on and on.

Oh for God's sake, you know?  You may be wondering, and I am seriously doing that myself, why I go there.  All these bitchy TNUC's (just think about it for a minute) who run this office are wacko bat shit.  I need to find someplace with a dude at the helm.  Not being sexist, just being honest!