I nearly blew a gasket yesterday. I waited for 45 minutes for a doctor’s appointment. This is by far the most annoying way to spend an afternoon. Sure I had a book and my phone to text my bff’s, but for all that is good and right in the world, do you think that maybe they could kinda get me in on time?
No, I don’t think they can.
I made this appointment about two months prior. Using my vast reasoning abilities, I made it far enough into the year so as not to have to cancel out on the good doctor because of the weather. I check the day, nothing going on. I asked for a time that worked best to ensure that I made the freaking appointment on time. I set my phone to remind me the day before. I told my co-workers and my boss I had a doctor’s appointment.
On the day of the appointment, I made sure I was ready. I had my insurance cards, my photo ID (this is another blog all together). I got there 15 minutes early to fill out the same exact stupid paperwork I fill out every year. I’m doing my part. I’m being responsible.
I’m utterly disappointed.
I sit myself back in the chairs about two minutes till my appointment time. I’ve done everything the doctor’s office has requested of me and I guess it now all up to them. So I wait.
Until I no longer need an appointment. Because I am dead.
At 15 minutes past my appointment time, I start to wonder when they’re going to call me in. It’s okay, I’m reading and texting and at this point we’re just joking around about the wait. After all, 15 minutes isn’t that bad. And you can expect these kinds of things right?
At about the 30 minute mark, it’s just not as funny as it was before. People who sat down after me are getting called into the office. I begin ticking off the minutes as time I’m losing after the appointment. I was planning a nice meal; maybe get a little time on the porch. Things that really shouldn’t be out the realm of possibilities given that my appointment was for 1:00 p.m.
But like my daughter says, I guess I am just a dreamer.
The next 15 minutes are spent not being able to concentrate on a single damn word in my book, barking texts to anyone who will listen and outlining this blog. I’m pissed. Plain. And. Simple. And it’s beginning to show. I’m fidgeting. I’m looking at my watch and planning a trip to the reception area. This is unacceptable for a professional office. It just is.
Finally, I’m called back. I give the nurse the ice-stare, hoping she gets the point. She makes some kind of lame excuse about new patients. I ask her if I’m a new patient, which she has to admit that I am decidedly not. I would think after 20 plus years, I’m probably an old patient. But the person in before me was new and there’s a new computer system in place and maybe the doctor had to burp or some other stupid nonsense that is only insulting my intellingence.
And we all know how I feel about that!
The nurse routine goes on for a little bit and she takes my blood pressure. Now granted, I shouldn’t let these kinds of things bug me. I should be easier going. I should try to understand that these things happen and that everyone is entitled to a little slack every once in a while.
But I don’t. I don’t care what happened with the patient before me or the one before that patient. I don’t care who died today so long as it wasn’t me. I care about getting to a doctor’s appointment and getting in within ten minutes of my appointment time. Don’t tell me excuses; give me timeliness. I’m getting pissed all over again just thinking about it.
So anyway, she takes my blood pressure and surprise of all surprises, it’s high. And now they’re mad at me. Why is it high? Am I taking my medicine? Did I lose weight? Have I done what the doctors have told me to do?
And in my mind I say to the nurse: “I did. I came to my appointment on time. Lotta good that did me.”
It’s a private victory but sometimes those are just as sweet.
So to my readers in offices making the people wait: next time your patient’s BP is high, check your watch. That might give you a clue.
Take your vitamins people!