Friday, 5 February 2010

Doctors, so depressing aren't they!

I had my weekly check up at the doctors and once again they aren't happy. My bp is still ridiculously high and they don't know why. So I'm back up to the hospital for more checks. I had started this week off so cheerfully and now feel really a bit naff. They have this way of talking to you that makes you feel small, ignorant and generally not really worth the effort! Despite their own scales showing them how much weight I have lost, they don't say "well done", just "you need to loose more".
Still it reminded me of a time when I went with my mum. The receptionist was worse, much worse. Here's the diary entry I wrote at the time...

Battle of the wills:

Today I decided to see my Mum and go with her to the doctors. A momentous occasion as getting her anywhere near a surgery is harder than getting the Cat into a carry cage and to the vet’s (I’m still baring the scars from that last attempt).

Turns out that the Doctor in their infinite knowledge haven’t got a clue what’s wrong and proceed to send my Mum packing with a long list of tests that she needs to make appointments for.

Enter the dreaded Receptionist. You know the type, dragons barely in disguise. This one is Queen, you can tell, she has the pencil on a string round her neck.

Mum hands over her list and clearly explains that due to work commitments she can only have the tests on Thursdays, any Thursday, any time. Immediately the Dragon tells her that her first appointment will be on a Wednesday, o-oh you know this is going to be a battle of the wills. Mum is not known for her patience, so she repeats her mantra, “I can only do Thursdays” to which she adds that stare. Stand off time.

Eventually Dragon books her appointments over three Thursdays, each time my mum confirming which test is when. They seem to agree, hurray. Only little old me who has been so good and quiet for the last 15 mins (yes it really did take that long) decides to pipe up “But haven’t you forgotten that the phlebotomist can’t do the ECG and therefore you need to book that with the Nurse” BAD idea, should have kept quiet.

“SSSH” my Mum joining in, I’m mean really you’d have thought I was 3 not over 30.

Before they both realise I was right.

Now normally this would be a good time to score a point, go “ner ner ner na” or something equally childish, but hey I don’t have a death wish and as such slope off to the car….

1 comment:

Lyon said...

Urgh! I have so dealt with dr's and receptionists like that. It's why I am with your mom on this one - it's almost impossible to get me to go anywhere near a dr. If I go, you know it's gotta be REALLY bad. When you're dealing with people who are not feeling well and possibly freaked out for a living, *I* would think an important part of your job would to not be an a*hole and take it easy on people, but that's just me. ;-) So frustrating!