It's not about the house.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Unfair and Seriously Unbalanced

I'm not even going to editorialize about our our recent health care experience. I'm just going to report. You decide how I feel about it.*

I will preface by saying that any normal person would have gone to the emergency room on Sunday when it happened. Johnny, as you may be aware, is not any normal person -- but it took until Tuesday morning for him to tell me why (not why he's abnormal, that part's still a mystery, just why he wouldn't go to hospital).

He said he knew his owie leg would be last priority amongst assorted bleeders, and he didn't want to sit around for eight or fifteen hours only to be told to see a specialist. "If I see my doc," he said, " he'll get me an appointment with a specialist if I need one. And I'd rather sit on the couch for two days than in the emergency room for twelve hours on a Sunday night."

Fair enough, I guess. It's his leg. Though you should see him try to balance on it.

So on Monday night (when I finally understood that he was refusing just the E.R. and not medical attention in general) I called the Urgent Care line at the clinic where his doctor is. I told the Appointment Lady that I thought my husband broke himself, and asked for the earliest appointment they could give me. I said I didn't even care if he saw his doc, just the first appointment that they had, with anyone.

(This is how Urgent Care is supposed to work -- and I know, because I've done it. They just give you the first appointment they have with whoever's available. Unless, I imagine, you're a man and the first appointment's with a gynecologist or something. Though I can't be sure of that. I've never tried it as a man with a gynecologist...)

Appointment Lady gave me an appointment with Johnny's own doctor at 5:40 Tuesday evening.

We got there at 5:10 (well, I didn't want to be late) and the doc saw him at 5:50. At around 6:10 he came out with orders for x-rays and instructions to go have the pictures taken and come straight back up. So we proceeded down to radiology.

Which had been closed since 5:30.

So we have to go back this morning.

*Let's do this week's CONTEST a little differently. Instead of "first right answer wins," let's do "everybody plays and I choose my favorite." I suspect I won't be able to check in again until after we see however many doctors we have to see this morning -- and then of course I'll have to go to work -- so you'll have plenty of time to ponder this instead of whatever it is you're supposed to be doing at that computer...

So here's the game: Tell
me how I feel about all this. Insult anyone you like (though be careful how far you go with the Royal Consort), and be creative. Could be one word, could be a poem, could be a Kurdish curse. But venture something. And make me laugh. Because if I get home after this ordeal and I have just two entries and they're both from my best friend who makes up fake names to make me feel better, I swear to god I'll make like Billy Joe McAllister.

Though the Tallahatchie is a long way off, so I'll settle for the Fore...

Purty, ain't she? I swear to god there's a river under her somewhere...


Muskego Jeff said...

Doctor can't tell time,
Waiting for leg to fall off,
Will be here till Spring.

LadyScot said...

He'll get his heid in his hawns and his lugs to play wi.

(my mother used to threaten me with that all the time - says a lot about my childhood, eh)

John said...

"Hell is other people."

- Sartre

Anonymous said...

Well, better to lose the use of a a leg than a hand, eh, Andy?

Hagrid said...

serves himself rite, waitin like that before callin the doc, but now you gutta go back wit im for the Xray, doncha? sure's shit, they'll be cue as long as yer good leg in the mornin.

Janice said...

Queues are a fact of life and should be treated as an opportunity for quality time with your partner... They aren't so bad if you take supplies: a pack of cards (two of you can play crib), cellphone, mp3 player, books, snacks... chairs are usually provided and often some entertainment in the way of a passing parade of humanity.

Robert said...

1. If I were going to make up a name, it wouldn't be robert.
2. I'm not sure what you were threatening, but I think Billy Joe threw something besides himself off the bridge.
3. "Tell me how I feel" is to "Do I look fat in these Jeans" as a nuclear bomb is to a hand grenade. I'll pass.

EGE said...

Thanks everybody. That was fun!

PS Now, Robert, I wasn't talking about you with the best-friend-making-up-names thing, though don't think I'm not flattered -- but no best friend of mine could ever be a Chargers fan...