The first thing that is not a good idea is that my clinic where the doctor I've been seeing for about twenty years works, is in my old haunt of a neighbourhood where ''things'' happen.
And I was angry. And I was hungry. And I was tired. And I was lonely (in a way).
A beer seemed out of the question as did everything else that appeared on the to-do list my brain had just generated. So I drove around and walked around and thought up a list of alternative things I could be doing and alternative places I could be walking, each with its own little inconvenience or deficient interest level. The movies, the library, the book store, a café, a friend's house. One after the other I dropped them on a whim. But obviously something much darker was at work here and although I felt in control, I was actually in full battle with my hungry ghost.
It started with the cigarettes. Then, a coffee. Then. the. Shit.
Shit.
-as in Fuuuck.-
Then da shit!! Man.
And I gambled a little bit, lost some dough, not all of it. Too much of it. And a couple of hours passed.
And I walked on, chain-smoking and doing the doctor a favour with a breathe mint on top of my poison-caked tongue and some tar juice. And I walked into the clinic.
It was 2:45 PM.
So you have an appointment with Dr. T. at 3 fifteen this afternoon ?, the too thin receptionist chirped.
She made it sound like next week.
Yeah, I answered. I had no other place to go.
I took my place amongst the wearried and the wounded and I stared out the window at the beautiful Spring day happening outside.
If I hadn't gotten sick and ended my work schedule prematurely, I would be reclining on a lounge chair by a pool in Florida right now.
Every time Dr. T came toward the waiting room, he would walk toward me and look at me and then, at the last minute, he would do a quick turn the others and ask for Mr. so and so.
(He calls ME by my first name.)
( I only needed to see him for one minute.)
( Who are these people ?!)
The last few crumbs of Compassion melted away, leaving only harsh eyes and cruel tongue.
Pick me ! Pick me ! I wanted to scream.
I finally got in at 3 forty five PM. He looked like an angry father.
The receptionist told you that I wasn't very nice to her ?, I asked.
Yes. and the director of the clinic actually spoke to me about it too.
He looked down at my file like a teacher correcting my school work.
I felt like I had to defend myself.
I just told her, that if I started shitting in the waiting room, would you guys take care of me ?
He immediately jumped in, No. Actually, you said..., And he turned to his computer screen and started reading an oddly accurate report of my conversations with the lady taking appointments over the phone. She had unfortunately been the target of my venom towards the health care system in general. But in the back of mind, I knew she had heard far worse things in her career taking calls for a clinic that specializes in sexually transmitted infections so I had written it off as a professional hazard.
Well if she didn't spend all her time writing detailed notes in people's files, maybe she'd answer the phone quicker, I threw in.
He garbled some agreement, but kept his stern face.
OK. Fine. I relented. I've just been having a bad day and I took a line only to keep my eyes open and get home. I have a two hour drive after this. And it helped keeping me from punching that guy in the waiting room. Geezus he's trashed in there with a bag full of party favours and no one's saying a word !?
I stared right at the doctor. And I wiped my nose. And I looked away.
Anyway, I said. I know I need antibiotics.
I folded the prescription into my pocket.
Maybe I should find myself a clinic where I can pay for times like this. I mean if you hadn't been here, I don't know what I would have done.
Maybe there's something else we can do, he said, almost as an afterthought.
He went on to describe a program, where, by signing just on a couple of lines I was telling the government that Dr. T. was my family doctor. This would allow me to come to the clinic on the weekend if necessary, without an appointment and also the possibility of seeing one of Dr. T.'s colleagues if he wasn't in on a specific day.
I was a little hurt.
But B.- I've been seeing you for almost twenty years and I've always been welcome here and....and my file is here, and you've seen the lean years, the bad years, the young years. I thought it was clear that you were my family doctor. Now, by signing this, I'm making it true ?!
I signed and I initialed.
So, now apparently, my access to medical attention is enhanced.
But just in case, he also scribbled down the name of a private clinic where I can just show up and pay and get the quality services I need in a reasonable time frame.
Like they have in Cuba.
Except in Cuba it's called Free Universal Health Care.
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