When you get a serious illness, you can expect to spend an inordinate amount of time in various waiting rooms—doctors’ offices, emergency rooms, and outpatient services, not to mention places like Social Security and state assistance offices.
Yesterday I spent six hours back at Johns Hopkins for one test and one doctor appointment. This entailed a long walk to the test department, a 30-minute wait, a one-hour test (thank goodness it was done laying down), a wait of one hour between appointments, a much longer walk in the cold, and a whopping 3-hour wait for the doctor to walk into my room.
It was enough to leave me weeping uncontrollably—so far beyond “spent” I cannot find words—and utterly overwhelmed as more and more symptoms exploded in my body with each passing minute. The doctor I ultimately saw was surprisingly kind in regards to my case, yet could not summon the ability to mention (much less apologize for) keeping me waiting so long, even though I couldn’t stop sobbing into lousy paper towels through the entire appointment. The closest he came was, “I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad day.”
Oh.
I’ve lived this scenario more times than I can count. Once it becomes clear that politeness has no barter, I’ve reacted—whether inwardly or outwardly— in every possible way through anger, sulking, pleading, resentment, indignation, indifference or resignation. None of which changes anything. The doctor still cruises room to room, the clock keeps ticking at exactly the same rate. Eventually it all ends and you go home.
Of course I’m not alone. I watch as other patients ride the same rollercoaster. You can tell the ones who are brand new to it by the utter shock in their eyes. And you can tell the ones who are bottoming out by the utter desperation in theirs. It’s all suffering, and it’s wholly unnecessary.
Even on the days when I’m barely hanging on my heart breaks for those around me--slumped in chairs that do not accommodate bodies with troubled parts, unable to wait but unwilling to leave, distilling surrender from resignation.
Three hours. No apology. Thanks, Ani, my boiling blood just made the Mongolian cold a little more bearable. It's a tribute to your monastic training that you didn't poke him in the snoot.
ReplyDeleteIt's hard to surpress a chuckle, but that's my own defence mechanism; to find the unbearable ludicrous.
ReplyDeleteOn Friday I was in hospital, too, but just for a check up. At my last visit, my consultant had requested a bone density scan and I had obediently toddled off and had it done. When I asked about the result, the doctor I saw (an *underling*, dammit!) tip-tapped at his desktop and calmly pronounced that there was no test. I explained that I was pretty sure I'd had one, and that I distinctly remember it happening. He frowned and checked again, then asked me whether I was *sure*. He then suggested that it must have been in a different hospital. This made me pause, sure, and I had to run visuals of various radiology units through my mind before confirming that it was indeed theirs that I'd come to. He promised to check it out.
This wasn't good enough for me, so I expended precious energy going to the radiology unit (on another site accross town) and, diary in hand demanded proof that I had indeed been there. The woman looked at me kindly (oh, and a little patronisingly) after checking her computer, and suggested that perhaps I'd visited another hospital. I finally got through to the bone density scan manager (or *whatever*) on the phone and he confirmed that I had indeed had a bone density scan on that day, but that his particular department works on a different computer system. Gah! He seemed amazed that my consultant hadn't received the results.
"Would you forward them to him", I asked.
"Oh no", he replied, "I need him to request them before I can do that.
Wow. Unbelievable. It boggles the mind that we strive for the cutting edge technological advances in this society- but absent the simplest traces of loving concern for those struggling with the worst physical discomfort.
ReplyDeleteI do truly appreciate the sharing of these experiences and that you both seem sincerely intent on not being bitter about that which might cause exactly such a response. May any and all who feel alone in such experiences find community here on your blog Ani-La!