I made my familiar trek to the cancer institute. Today I was lucky and found a parking spot near the door. I walked into the building and headed toward the elevators. A gentleman was mopping the floors. I apologized profusely as I tiptoed over the wet floor to the elevator door. He just smiled and told me I wouldn't be the only one to do it. I still felt badly for him. He'd worked so hard to get the floor all clean and shiny.
Arriving on the third floor, I made my routine pit stop at the bathroom. You never know how long you're going to have to wait in the oncology office. It's better to be safe than sorry. After emptying my bladder, I went on to my oncologist's office. The ladies at the desk were friendly as I signed in and took a seat. I noticed the books on the little give/take bookshelf in the waiting room. There was one I wanted to read so I got up and crossed the room to retrieve it. It's so nice they provide a tiny lending library. I made a mental note to bring in some of my books to share with others next time.
I didn't have to wait long. The nurse came and got me in less than 5 minutes. That was a first! She took me to the scale, got my weight, and ushered me into a room. The CNA came in and took my vital signs. Everything looked good, she said. In a minute or two, the door opened and an elderly gentleman entered the room. At first I thought he'd entered the wrong room but as he continued his approach, I realized he had not.
The elderly man stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Dr. Henderson. Dr. Feinstein is out today." Immediately I was on guard. I don't like surprises, especially with my medical team. (Dr. Henderson must have been pushing his mid 80's. When he'd entered the room, he was stooped over and as he said his name, his dentures moved forward as spittle ran down his chin.) The doctor asked how I was feeling and when I told him I wasn't feeling well, he quickly scooted to the far corner of the room on his little wheeled stool. I was shocked that he would be so blatant in his attempt to get away from me and I guess my face showed it. He then said, "Do you have a bug or something?" I immediately responded, "not that I know of."
I wasn't in the mood to play 20 questions with this substitute doctor. I wanted my own! I told him I hadn't been sleeping well for many months and that I was experiencing severe back pain. He just sat there and I asked if there was something he could do to help. He said, "You could try a sleeping pill." I sat and waited for more information but he didn't offer any. "Okay," I said, "and what about my back pain?" His response dumbfounded me..."You could see a pain management specialist." Really???
Dr. Henderson walked over to the examination table and opened up a drawer. He pulled out a paper half gown with an opening up the front. I knew what was coming next. He was going to perform a physical exam. I wasn't looking forward to his bony, old hands touching me but I knew it had to be done. Oh how I wished my regular doctor was in the office today.
I removed my blouse and slipped on the paper gown then hopped up onto the exam table. Dr. Henderson came back in and felt under my armpits. He pressed really hard for an old guy and it hurt. Then he mashed around on my incision. I could tell he hadn't dealt with patients on a regular basis because of his roughness. He had me lie down on the table and as I did, I winced in pain. It took me a few minutes to get completely prone and I apologized for taking a few minutes to get there. He poked on my abdomen and then had me sit up. He was done and exiting the room. A total of 4 minutes had passed. I couldn't believe it, I wanted a do over!!!
As I dressed, I was fuming. This substitute didn't know me. He didn't know my case and had obviously not reviewed my medical records. I'm sure he'd probably just come out of retirement recently to fill in for Dr. Feinstein on a regular basis to supplement his Social Security income. I could have done a better job than he had!
I walked out into the hall and caught a nearby nurse by the shoulder. I told her I needed to have lab work done, that Dr. Feinstein always did blood work to determine the levels of my Vitamin D (which was always extremely low) and to check on my platelet levels and tumor markers. She looked at me strangely and said, "Well, Dr. Henderson didn't order any lab work." I told her I knew that, but I wanted it to be done and would she please ask him to place the order. If I couldn't get a real do over, I was at least going to get another throw of the dice.
The lab assistant was quick and managed to hit the vein in my hand with great precision. I was thankful for her. She has been doing her job for some time and is very good at it. Venipuncture is not an easy task especially when it has to be done on tiny little veins in the back of a patient's hand.
Time to check out. Wow, this was the quickest doctor's visit I'd ever had! I tried to be nice. At the check out desk, I didn't say ugly things, like I wanted to, but I did question the whereabouts of my regular doctor. The receptionist told me that he'd left the practice and moved to a location in Fayetteville. Ah! Now it made sense. That's why Dr. Henderson was the man on call today.
As I made my next three month appointment, I asked if I would see Dr. Feinstein. I was told I would not unless I drove to the other office in Fayetteville. I didn't want to do that. It was too far away, but I also didn't want to see Dr. Henderson again...EVER! The receptionist could sense my disappointment. When I asked if there was another doctor in the practice that I could see, she assured me there were two others. I chose the one I thought would be the best fit after having Googled him and reading his Curriculum Vitae. At least this new doctor was under the age of 80 and well educated.
I left the office feeling very frustrated. I really felt like I had been duped. I'd thought I was going to see my regular doctor and I'd gotten a substitute instead. If I'd been brave enough to have done it, I would have walked out of the patient exam room as soon as Dr. H had introduced himself. His inability to keep his dentures in his mouth was surely no fault of his own (Polygrip would have fixed that) but the flying spit was a definite turn off. I guess I just don't like to rock the boat when it comes to things like that but I do realize I have my rights. Just like the board game with my best friend, back in the day, I really wanted a do over but I knew, just like I did then, that it wasn't going to happen. RATS!
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