Dumbass doctor

I had such an irritating experience at the doctor’s office today.

My doctor works out of a clinic, which I like because I can go see any doctor who is working if I need something minor, and she still has my complete file when I do see her. This year, with everything that has been going on with me, I have been choosing to go see her exclusively, even for things like perscription refills.

So I called the office and heard on the recording that she would be working until 1pm. I busted getting ready and got to the office by 12:45. Then I stood at the front desk for about five minutes while the many office workers chatted, wandered by on tasks, and basically completely ignored me. By the time someone came to help me, I was already aggravated.

I stated that I wished to see my doctor and got the flat response, “She’s done for the day.”

“Oh,” I said, “Your recording states that she is here until 1pm. Is that incorrect?”

There was a slight pause. “She left already. She was done early. You can see another doctor.”

Oh I can? Thank you so much for explaining my options to me!

As I left my prescription refill until almost the last minute, I agreed to see the first available doctor. He turned out to be a sixtyish man who asked way too many questions for a simple refill.

Have I taken this medication before? What is the dosage and how many times a day? What am I taking it for? What else am I doing to treat my depression? You’re not doing any exercises? Oh, you have a torn ACL. Well, you can still do arm exercises (this illustrated with him doing an arm curl, in case I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about). Nothing to stop you from keeping those in shape.

First of all, my doctor is his colleague. I felt that by him asking all these questions, he was calling into question her competency to treat me.

Secondly, as this was a refill and not a request to start a medication to treat depression, I don’t see why he felt he needed to ask any of the follow up questions. What am I doing to treat my depression? I’m taking my fucking medication, asshat! Give me my prescription before I go all ninja on your ass!

Thirdly, I have no idea what arm exercises are supposed to do to treat my depression, since I’m fairly sure that cardio activity is needed to pump endorphins through the body, and no one I know gets an endorphin rush from curling 10lb weights.

And fourthly, I have absolutely no need for a stranger to talk to me about ‘keeping in shape’. Considering he had no base line to know what my body has ever looked like previously, it’s obviously that he had a moment of ‘omg fattie!!’ Let me just say again for the record: DO NOT WANT.

Originally published at idle musings. You can comment here or there.

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