June 28, 2014

In the gynecologist’s office, can’t remember the complaint.  She says, “just a minute” comes back with an older partner, big guy, older, glasses and lots of grey hair.  He has me summarize my last few visits to figure out what my level of understanding is.  by the time I’m finished, there’s like 6 docs in the room, looking sympathetic, and Old Guy says, “how many pill packs are left on your Rx?”  “four” I tell him.  He says come back then, and we’ll see how things are.  maybe we can change your script.  “Why” I say, “it’s working fine.”  And the faces get even more serious, all of them looking at each other, none telling me anything.  I ask to see the report.  Still staring, no one moving.  I’m getting angrier and angrier, making eye contact, one after the other, asking for plain words.  Old Guy, finally, admits what I already know by this time.  “too numerous to count”  which makes no sense of course, but it’s what they’re giving me.  Ask for a tissue dx, nothing.  ask to see the report, nope.  ask for location, primary, no, no, nope.  they leave the room and I’m left to go home and say goodbye.


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