My New Doctor - Dr. Prophet

Yesterday, as some of you know, I made my pilgrimage to the office of a new doctor in town, an orthopedic specialist, for him to have a look at my knee and my heel, which have been troubling me for a couple of months. When I made my appointment, the receptionist told me that, since I was a new patient, I should arrive one half hour early to fill out the new patient form. Fair enough. On the day before the appointment, I received a reminder call, which repeated the instructions to arrive early.

I left home in time to arrive at the office a few minutes before 3:00 PM, my appointment having been set for 3:30 PM. Unfortunately, I went to the wrong building. I asked if they knew where the office of the orthopedic specialists was. They asked me the name of the doctor, but - alas! - I had forgotten it. The receptionist was kind enough to look up the names of the orthopedists and call them out to me until I recognized the name. Then she called their office to make sure that I had an appointment with them. Do you think she thought I was senile? Now my memory helper for the doctor's name is one the prophets in the Hebrew Testament, since his name is a variation of the name of that prophet. How's that for cleverness after forgetting his name? Here, I'll call him Dr. Prophet.

Once I found the right office, it was 3:15, so I was late for my pre-visit arrival. I began filling out the medical history form. It took me 35 minutes to finish. Toward the end, I felt as though I was taking a very long school test, and I was writing whatever popped into my head first just to get to the end. The spaces in which to put the information were so very small that I had to squeeze in the printing, making some of it nearly illegible. I know that this information is important for the doctor to have, but when it's so long, one does get worn down.

I handed in my form at around 3:50 and proceeded to read my book Constantine's Sword (an excellent book) by James Carroll, at 600+ pages excluding notes, references, and index, of which I had read half, and which I knew would carry me through any wait for a doctor visit. 4:00 came; 5:00 came. I went to ask the receptionist, very politely, if they had forgotten about me. She said, "No, they're reading your medical history." 35 minutes to fill it out and one hour and 10 minutes to read it. Priceless. In between those times, I began thinking of elderly folks who decide to forego medical care because they are old and are going to die anyway. It began to seem an understandable and somewhat attractive idea. I'm a bit hospital and doctor phobic, anyway. It's even hard for me to visit people in the hospital.

At 5:10, I was called in. The nurse apologized to me for the wait and said that they were still behind trying to catch up after Hurricane Gustav and that they were scheduling more patients per day than usual. I understood that. I'm still catching up, too. She x-rayed my knee and foot, and moved me to an examining room. There the wait there was only about 5 minutes, and I clocked the doctor's arrival at 5:25. My math may not be exact. He said, "I'm so sorry you had to wait." I said, "I believe you may have broken my record for waiting in a doctor's office. But wait! No! Once I was left stripped topless and forgotten in an examining room. I had to open the door wrapped in my sheet and remind them I was still there, and they had, indeed!, forgotten me."

They don't call us patients for nothing.

He proceeded to examine me very gently, while we talked of his name and how I had forgotten it, and about my prophet's name memory helper. He looked at the x-rays and gave me my diagnoses of osteoarthritis of the knee and plantar fasciitis of the heel. He said that there were several treatments that he could try, before he would suggest a knee replacement. What a relief! He has no idea what convincing it would take for me to have that surgery. He gave me a steroid shot in the knee, and, when I squealed a little, he said that it was only pressure and not pain. How does he know? I told him his comment reminded of a man talking about the pain of childbirth. He said, "Oh, I never do that!"

Then Dr. Prophet said that he was sending me to a physical therapist. I was overjoyed, because I had been wanting a referral to a therapist from my family doctor, but he never sent me. He asked if I had been to any PTs, and I gave him the name of the therapist who worked with me after I broke my shoulder several years ago, mentioning that he gave wonderful massages. He said that he had one in mind who loved to do feet. He loved working on feet and doing foot massages. I said, "Oh yes! Send me to the foot fetishist!" So, I'm on my way to the foot fetishist, with the hope that he will help my knee, too, soon and very soon.

I must confess that, despite the long wait, I fell a little in love with Dr. Prophet. He was kind, gentle, and caring, and he took time with me to talk to me and answer all my questions. Unfortunately, not all, or even most doctors are like that today. With some, I feel that I'm being rushed through for them to get to the next patient. Doctors reading this, I am not referring to you. I'm sure that you're all like Dr. Prophet with your patients.

Sigh.... Another all-about-me-post. Skip it if you like.