I went to see the doctor the other day and, as a result of his request, I went over to the hospital next door to have a number of tests done. Nothing serious, but I hadn’t had blood work, or other things, done in a good while and he said I was overdue. So I went.
I hate going into the hospital as an “outpatient”. I’m not their “patient” at all. I’m just using their Lab and X-ray department to get some stuff done BECAUSE MY DOCTOR TOLD ME TO. However, they don’t see it that way.
Can I just walk back to the Lab, hand them the doctor’s orders, get some blood drawn and move on? Of course not. First, I have to go to the Admitting Department. I’m not being admitted so don’t ask me why I have to go there. However, no one will even talk to me until I’ve BEEN TO ADMITTING.
Okay. I go to Admitting.
I stand in line at a window in the Admitting Department. The woman at the front of the line is hugely pregnant and she and the person behind the counter are having a long, loud, extensive conversation about whether the correct paperwork is on file so the pregnant lady can be admitted. Apparently it is not. The paper pusher makes numerous phone calls, the pregnant lady waits, the man in front of me waits, I wait. We are all waiting for the privilege of talking to the paper pusher. She is maybe 19 years old and she will be the one to grant me permission to get my blood work, et al, done.
I am a college professor teaching students about the business end of medicine. The irony is not lost on me.
Finally the pregnant lady is rolled away in a wheelchair, the man in front of me has received permission to get his x-ray and it is my turn.
Paper Pusher (PP): “Can I help you?”
Me: “Yes, I’m here to get some blood work, an x-ray and a pulmonary function test.”
PP: “You have to have an appointment to get a PFT.”
Me: “Yes, I know. I have an appointment. It’s at 11:45. (It is now 10:00 AM) I came early so I could get the blood work and x-ray done first. I’m fasting so I need to get the blood work done soon. I’m getting a terrible headache.”
PP: “Have you been here before?”
Me: “Yes.”
PP: “Okay, fill these out.” (She hands me a clipboard on which there is a small mountain of papers)
Me: “I’ve been here before. Nothing has changed. Same address, same phone, same job, same insurance.”
PP: “Sorry, this paperwork has to be filled out before you can be processed.”
I spend the next 30 minutes filling out the paperwork. I return the clipboard to her and am told to sit down, I will be called. My head is throbbing.
I am called into the Admitting Department. Apparently I was talking to the receptionist. Silly me, I thought I was talking to the Admitting Department.
Paper Pusher #2 bids me sit down across from her.
PP2: (Looking at computer screen) “Do you still live at …….? Is your phone number still…….? Do you still work at…………?Is your insurance still……..?”
Me: “Yes, Yes, Yes and Yes.” She never looks at the paperwork I spent 30 minutes filling out.
Okay, she says perkily, “let’s get you back to x-ray and get started”.
I ask about doing the blood work first since I’m starving and my head is throbbing. "Not possible," she says.
She takes me to the X-ray Department. Upon arrival, I am told to sit in the waiting room and she walks over and gives the paperwork to the people behind the counter. Apparently I could not be trusted to carry the paperwork to the X-ray Department and give it to them myself.
I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.
Finally at 11:00 AM they call me in. The first thing the x-ray tech does is look at my wrist. My empty wrist. “Where’s your I.D. bracelet?” she says. “What I.D. bracelet?” I say. Back to Admitting I go.
PP2: “Oh, ha-ha, I’m so sorry” she laughs. “I forgot your I.D. bracelet. You have to wear one or you just can’t get anything done. It’s a safety measure to make sure the right patient gets the right service.”
I am not smiling.
I return to x-ray and show my bracelet. I don’t have to wait again. It’s a good thing. I would hate to have to kill someone on this fine sunny day. Did I mention I hadn’t eaten and my head was killing me?
This is for a simple chest x-ray. Doing the x-ray takes about 5 minutes. We’re done.
I head to the Lab in order to get the blood drawn. When I arrive at where I KNOW the lab should be, the door is closed, locked and has a sign that says “Authorized Personnel Only”. My head is hurting so bad that my eyeballs may soon pop out. I have no idea where to go to get the blood drawn. I ask anyone who looks like they might know something. Finally I am sent to “Short Stay”.
It is a long ways away from where I am. It is a huge hospital. As I am walking the 6 miles to the Short Stay area, my knees start hurting. No surprise. No meds in my system and lots of walking. Not a good combination. My headache has reached a new level of throbbing.
I am not happy.
I arrive in Short Stay. There is a nurse’s station and beds. This does not look like a place to have your blood drawn. Off to my right I see a person sitting in an office. I stick my head in the office and ask, “where do I go to get my blood drawn?”
She points vaguely off to her left and says “Go sit over there, I’ll call the Lab.” I see no place to sit and I tell her so in my not-so-nice, don’t fuck with me voice. (my head hurts, my knees hurt, I am starving – I am not happy.) Since I am standing there watching her, she calls the Lab and then gets up and leads me to where I should sit and wait. I swear, if I had just wandered off and found a place to sit, the Lab would never have been called. It is 11:25.
At 11:35, I get up, walk back over to the lady who called the Lab and ask if she has any idea when they might be coming. She has no idea and clearly could care less. I tell her about my 11:45 appointment for the PFT and it is very clear, as I am talking, that she sincerely wishes I would shut up and leave her alone.
I shut up and leave her alone.
At 11:40 I leave the Short Stay area and head for the Pulmonary Function Testing Lab. Problem? I have no idea where it is.
I walk.
I ask.
I walk.
I ask.
I finally find the right place. The door is locked.
Nobody is there.
I have now passed the headache stage and I am a bit giddy and lightheaded from not eating. I also feel like biting anyone who has the misfortune to cross me.
Suddenly, as I’m standing at the locked door wondering what to do, a PFT tech walks up and greets me.
She is nice.
She is warm.
She is friendly.
I almost hug her in my relief at finding somebody who is treating me decently. I decide not to bite her.
We go inside. She checks my wrist band and my paperwork. I am who I am supposed to be. She puts me in a booth. I huff, I puff, I blow, I prove that my lungs still work, albeit, not perfectly. This takes a long time, almost an hour.
It is now approaching 1:00 PM. I still have not had any blood drawn and I have still not eaten.
I return to Short Stay and talk to “The Charm School Director” again. The lab people never came. She calls the Lab again. I sit down to wait again.
As I’m waiting, a bright spot! A lady and her therapy dog come by. It’s a Chocolate Lab! We talk, we visit, I pet the sweet furry girl and the time passes. I think of doing therapy work with my girls. However, Lucy, for all her sweet, gentle lovability with us, does not particularly care for strangers. Not a good trait in a potential therapy dog. Meggie is still a baby but she loves everybody. Maybe Meggie…….hmmmmmmm..the mental wheels are turning. I can’t help but think what a wonderful therapy dog sweet Bess would have been.
Finally, the blood tech shows up. She is chatty and pleasant. It’s not her fault. She says she just got the call and came right away. She has no idea what happened earlier. She checks my wrist band. I am who I say I am. She draws the blood, band-aids my arm and we’re done.
At 2:00 PM I crawl out the front door of the hospital. With shaking hands, I unlock my car and desperately grab for the tiny cooler that I was smart enough to bring. I eat my apple. I eat my WW bar. I drink my diet coke. I am so fucking good and “on program” that it’s disgusting. I want a huge hamburger, I want French fries, I want a shake. I munch more apple and head for home.
Our wonderful healthcare system. I’m just so thrilled to be a part of it.
I hate going into the hospital as an “outpatient”. I’m not their “patient” at all. I’m just using their Lab and X-ray department to get some stuff done BECAUSE MY DOCTOR TOLD ME TO. However, they don’t see it that way.
Can I just walk back to the Lab, hand them the doctor’s orders, get some blood drawn and move on? Of course not. First, I have to go to the Admitting Department. I’m not being admitted so don’t ask me why I have to go there. However, no one will even talk to me until I’ve BEEN TO ADMITTING.
Okay. I go to Admitting.
I stand in line at a window in the Admitting Department. The woman at the front of the line is hugely pregnant and she and the person behind the counter are having a long, loud, extensive conversation about whether the correct paperwork is on file so the pregnant lady can be admitted. Apparently it is not. The paper pusher makes numerous phone calls, the pregnant lady waits, the man in front of me waits, I wait. We are all waiting for the privilege of talking to the paper pusher. She is maybe 19 years old and she will be the one to grant me permission to get my blood work, et al, done.
I am a college professor teaching students about the business end of medicine. The irony is not lost on me.
Finally the pregnant lady is rolled away in a wheelchair, the man in front of me has received permission to get his x-ray and it is my turn.
Paper Pusher (PP): “Can I help you?”
Me: “Yes, I’m here to get some blood work, an x-ray and a pulmonary function test.”
PP: “You have to have an appointment to get a PFT.”
Me: “Yes, I know. I have an appointment. It’s at 11:45. (It is now 10:00 AM) I came early so I could get the blood work and x-ray done first. I’m fasting so I need to get the blood work done soon. I’m getting a terrible headache.”
PP: “Have you been here before?”
Me: “Yes.”
PP: “Okay, fill these out.” (She hands me a clipboard on which there is a small mountain of papers)
Me: “I’ve been here before. Nothing has changed. Same address, same phone, same job, same insurance.”
PP: “Sorry, this paperwork has to be filled out before you can be processed.”
I spend the next 30 minutes filling out the paperwork. I return the clipboard to her and am told to sit down, I will be called. My head is throbbing.
I am called into the Admitting Department. Apparently I was talking to the receptionist. Silly me, I thought I was talking to the Admitting Department.
Paper Pusher #2 bids me sit down across from her.
PP2: (Looking at computer screen) “Do you still live at …….? Is your phone number still…….? Do you still work at…………?Is your insurance still……..?”
Me: “Yes, Yes, Yes and Yes.” She never looks at the paperwork I spent 30 minutes filling out.
Okay, she says perkily, “let’s get you back to x-ray and get started”.
I ask about doing the blood work first since I’m starving and my head is throbbing. "Not possible," she says.
She takes me to the X-ray Department. Upon arrival, I am told to sit in the waiting room and she walks over and gives the paperwork to the people behind the counter. Apparently I could not be trusted to carry the paperwork to the X-ray Department and give it to them myself.
I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.
Finally at 11:00 AM they call me in. The first thing the x-ray tech does is look at my wrist. My empty wrist. “Where’s your I.D. bracelet?” she says. “What I.D. bracelet?” I say. Back to Admitting I go.
PP2: “Oh, ha-ha, I’m so sorry” she laughs. “I forgot your I.D. bracelet. You have to wear one or you just can’t get anything done. It’s a safety measure to make sure the right patient gets the right service.”
I am not smiling.
I return to x-ray and show my bracelet. I don’t have to wait again. It’s a good thing. I would hate to have to kill someone on this fine sunny day. Did I mention I hadn’t eaten and my head was killing me?
This is for a simple chest x-ray. Doing the x-ray takes about 5 minutes. We’re done.
I head to the Lab in order to get the blood drawn. When I arrive at where I KNOW the lab should be, the door is closed, locked and has a sign that says “Authorized Personnel Only”. My head is hurting so bad that my eyeballs may soon pop out. I have no idea where to go to get the blood drawn. I ask anyone who looks like they might know something. Finally I am sent to “Short Stay”.
It is a long ways away from where I am. It is a huge hospital. As I am walking the 6 miles to the Short Stay area, my knees start hurting. No surprise. No meds in my system and lots of walking. Not a good combination. My headache has reached a new level of throbbing.
I am not happy.
I arrive in Short Stay. There is a nurse’s station and beds. This does not look like a place to have your blood drawn. Off to my right I see a person sitting in an office. I stick my head in the office and ask, “where do I go to get my blood drawn?”
She points vaguely off to her left and says “Go sit over there, I’ll call the Lab.” I see no place to sit and I tell her so in my not-so-nice, don’t fuck with me voice. (my head hurts, my knees hurt, I am starving – I am not happy.) Since I am standing there watching her, she calls the Lab and then gets up and leads me to where I should sit and wait. I swear, if I had just wandered off and found a place to sit, the Lab would never have been called. It is 11:25.
At 11:35, I get up, walk back over to the lady who called the Lab and ask if she has any idea when they might be coming. She has no idea and clearly could care less. I tell her about my 11:45 appointment for the PFT and it is very clear, as I am talking, that she sincerely wishes I would shut up and leave her alone.
I shut up and leave her alone.
At 11:40 I leave the Short Stay area and head for the Pulmonary Function Testing Lab. Problem? I have no idea where it is.
I walk.
I ask.
I walk.
I ask.
I finally find the right place. The door is locked.
Nobody is there.
I have now passed the headache stage and I am a bit giddy and lightheaded from not eating. I also feel like biting anyone who has the misfortune to cross me.
Suddenly, as I’m standing at the locked door wondering what to do, a PFT tech walks up and greets me.
She is nice.
She is warm.
She is friendly.
I almost hug her in my relief at finding somebody who is treating me decently. I decide not to bite her.
We go inside. She checks my wrist band and my paperwork. I am who I am supposed to be. She puts me in a booth. I huff, I puff, I blow, I prove that my lungs still work, albeit, not perfectly. This takes a long time, almost an hour.
It is now approaching 1:00 PM. I still have not had any blood drawn and I have still not eaten.
I return to Short Stay and talk to “The Charm School Director” again. The lab people never came. She calls the Lab again. I sit down to wait again.
As I’m waiting, a bright spot! A lady and her therapy dog come by. It’s a Chocolate Lab! We talk, we visit, I pet the sweet furry girl and the time passes. I think of doing therapy work with my girls. However, Lucy, for all her sweet, gentle lovability with us, does not particularly care for strangers. Not a good trait in a potential therapy dog. Meggie is still a baby but she loves everybody. Maybe Meggie…….hmmmmmmm..the mental wheels are turning. I can’t help but think what a wonderful therapy dog sweet Bess would have been.
Finally, the blood tech shows up. She is chatty and pleasant. It’s not her fault. She says she just got the call and came right away. She has no idea what happened earlier. She checks my wrist band. I am who I say I am. She draws the blood, band-aids my arm and we’re done.
At 2:00 PM I crawl out the front door of the hospital. With shaking hands, I unlock my car and desperately grab for the tiny cooler that I was smart enough to bring. I eat my apple. I eat my WW bar. I drink my diet coke. I am so fucking good and “on program” that it’s disgusting. I want a huge hamburger, I want French fries, I want a shake. I munch more apple and head for home.
Our wonderful healthcare system. I’m just so thrilled to be a part of it.
3 comments:
Oh, that's just an awful experience. I didn't realize how lucky I was. I have NEVER experienced anything like that. Whatever I have to have done takes a few minutes of waiting, never more. You need to come to Kentucky!!!!
I had to go to Admitting today, too, as I was having yet another test done. Fortunately for me, Admitting was quick & painless. As for the test itself, it was relatively quick & painless-- but they called me later to come back, because they'd forgotten something! At least I didn't have to go to Admitting the second time.
Yeah, I am diabetic and they scheduled me for a fasting bloodsguar panel at 3pm. Fasting. Bloodsugar. 3pm. Diabetic.
Yeah. love it.
Post a Comment