I clearly remember
the helpless feeling that I had just after my diagnosis. I had just left the doctors office. My head was spinning. I was sitting in my car outside the doctor’s
office, relieved to finally have a direction, but lost and confused all the
same. I was gripping a small piece of
paper and trying to wrap my head around the previous thirty minutes of my life
as they related to the previous two years of medical problems.
I had just endured a
humiliating examination, abrupt and rude rapid-fire questioning, followed by a
painstaking silence as the doctor had made “secret” notes. I had been staring at my feet waiting for
what I was sure would be yet another typical response. Something along the lines of, “Well, there is
nothing wrong with you that I can see…”
However that is not what happened.
It took a minute to register as I heard the doctor say, “I know what’s
wrong with you.” Did he just say he knew
what was wrong with me? REALLY? I was stunned! Finally, my brain caught up with the situation
as I realized that I had missed the actual diagnosis! I frantically tried to focus and absorb as
much as I could realizing that while I had been focused on the fact that the
doctor knew what was wrong, he had not stopped to wait for me. My world was spinning out of control as my
diagnosis had been delivered in nothing less than a very cold, abrupt
manner. Suddenly I tuned into the voice
that was dryly and without emotion assaulting me with medical terms, test
descriptions, medications and a plan of action that I was clearly not prepared
to absorb. However, as quickly as it had
begun, the barrage was over and the doctor was telling me I could get dressed
unless I had any questions.
QUESTIONS?!? Seriously?!? Um…Only maybe a million or so!
CRAP! There I sat, feeling less than secure in my
less than flattering paper gown with my hiney hanging out. I felt the color of frustration and
humiliation rise in my already red cheeks.
I knew I was going to have to forgo my pride and admit that I was
lost. I had to go back to the first and
simplest of questions. “What did you say
I have?”
Seeing the disgusted
look on the doctor’s face as he rolled his eyes, you would have thought that I
had muttered nothing other than the sound, “DUHHHH.”
For a moment, he
just sat there. Then, in what I believe
was an intentional attempt to belittle me, He stood, walked to the door and
began to once again spout out information about his diagnosis. I wasn’t even
getting eye contact as this point. I
realized this was all I was going to get.
No printed information, no reassuring consult in an office with my
clothes on, no concern for my feelings….THIS WAS IT! Swallowing my pride, I gave up my attempts to
keep my paper gown closed and jumped off the examination table. I scavenged my purse for something to write
on. I retrieved a grocery receipt and
scribbled what I thought was my diagnosis just in time to look up and see the
doctor exit the room. I had missed it
all again! BUT…I HAD MY PAPER!
I waited a few
moments, stuck my head out the door, and then realized that no one was coming
back for me. So, I dressed and walked to
the nurse’s desk at the end of the hall.
I stood there for what seemed an eternity before the nurse looked up at
me and simply stared. “Do you need
anything else?” I timidly asked. Again,
I got to behold a wonderful display of eye-rolling technique that I have come
to believe is a required skill taught in medical school. A snippy reply preempted her handing me a
lovely, large orange jug. And while this
jug was a vital part of my diagnosis process, that fact was left for me to
discover by myself, later. The exchange
between us was over…or so I concluded as she turned to continue her
filing. As I was leaving the office in
an almost zombie-like state, I was snapped back to reality as the nurse began
yelling that I had forgot my “hat.”
Confused and a bit dazed, I accepted the strange white “hat.” But before
I could ask about it, the nurse had turned on her heel and disappeared behind
the “secret door.” For a moment I was
dumb founded. However, I HAD A
DIAGNOSIS! I couldn’t help but smile! For all I had just endured and all I had
endured for the past year, we were making progress. I would figure out what the strange “hat” and
orange jug were for later!
Moments later I was
sitting in my car, as I mentioned, grasping a receipt that had written on it
the answer that we had been searching for.
Slowly, my wits were coming back to me, and suddenly I had an
uncontrollable urge to know more! I
called Doug and rehashed my visit with the Doctor over my cell phone while
speeding home to begin searching for information.
At this point it may
have occurred to you that I might have left out a couple details. You may be wondering how it is that I left a
doctor’s office with little more than a diagnosis, and one scribbled on the
back of a receipt at that. What’s more,
come to find out I hadn’t even spelled it correctly and had to call the
Doctor’s office to confirm the diagnosis.
This is yet another example of the inadequacies that plague our health
care system and professionals. What kind
of a sadist delivers a diagnosis to a patient that has been suffering for
months if not years yet provides them no information about their affliction? Who does that to another human being? This incident, as well as many others that I
was about endure raised the question in my mind, “Isn’t it the ability to CARE
that makes us human?” And more importantly, “Shouldn’t the majority of those
devoting their lives to providing health care, actually CARE about their
patients?” Rest assured we will re-visit
this topic later! But for now, I
digress…
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