I went to the ear, nose and throat specialist on Monday morning/afternoon. Now that was a lot of fun. First of all, I had never been to this doctor before and so I made a concerted effort to be early for my appointment, which I was, by fifteen minutes. Down a long narrow corridor there is an open door, and people are overflowing through it into the hallway like a boiling cup of coffee in a microwave. It's like an overheated United Nations, only without the interpreters. I squeeze myself up to the front desk passing several representatives from Afghanistan, Italy, and Poland. Only in Toronto can a person go to the doctor and traverse large portions of the European continent in what amounts to no more than a few footfalls.
Footfalls?
I introduce myself to the ever so chatty receptionist and she hands me a clipboard with a form for me to fill out.“Just demographics”, she says. The waiting room is overflowing with people from all ends of the earth. The chairs are tightly packed together and there are no windows or vents. After filling out and returning the paperwork to the receptionist I sit down and start to read the book I have brought along with me in the event that there is a bit of a wait.
A bit of a wait later…(read 103 minutes) I am beginning to develop a secondary condition for which I am going to need an entirely different type of doctor. I am beginning to have issues with rage control. I am not alone. It is hot. People are beginning to become unhinged; they are starting to grumble under their breath in their respective mother tongues. Despite the fact that there are no interpreters the meaning of their mutterings is clear. It seems that frustration and annoyance sound a certain way regardless of the language in which they are given voice.
Finally it is my turn. Oh goodie! After sitting me down and going over my file…and the please stick out your tongue and say aaaaaah thing, we arrive at the good stuff, “And now for the most uncomfortable part.”…Oh, yummy.
“You will feel a little pressure now”, says the doctor, as he slowly shoves a long tube with a light and camera on the tip of it up my nose and into my forehead.
Pressure? Oh that’s what pressure feels like. I always just thought of that feeling as pain. Hmmm, pressure. Actually, pressure is what I felt in your waiting room for the past hour and a half. That was pressure…this is pain. Ok?
Once again the Canadian health care system had not let me down.
“Well, your exam is clear”, says the very fine doctor. Clear, ha? “We can do a CAT scan.”
Good…very good.
January 22, 2003…oh, what’s the rush? What if I have a brain tumor or something? I guess it can wait.
Pressure…hmmm.
I feel so much better now.
And so a new day begins…
Posted by thatmark at November 7, 2002 8:03 AMDon't you dare get sick and die... it is NOT ALLOWED. You must suffer years of tedium like the rest of us... but seriously, it is so perfectly frustrating to have to wait and wait for tests and procedures. Then again, I suppose that is the cost for socialized medical care... we should never take good health for granted.
Posted by: stephen on November 7, 2002 10:29 AMThat sucks, man. The doctor's office is not one of the more lovely places to be, that's for sure. But you should call whoever it is you have to call that's going to do your CAT scan next week and check for cancellations because if they have any they will bump you up. Get on their ass and try and get an earlier appointment - it works, i know, i've done it! But if it can't be done then at least you tried and you just have to wait until january.
And maybe all the doctor's will tell you is to have one night of blissful, exciting, no limits fun! Do we remember what those words mean? LIGHTEN UP! *wink*
Posted by: Amanda on November 7, 2002 10:05 AM