Diagnosis: You're an A-hole

I always thought this sign was funny. I mean really. How dare the Nebraska Roads and Sign Commission learn me a lesson so profound? The nerve.

Today, I took Lucy in for her pre-op physical at our doctor's office. Lucy is scheduled for a tonsillectomy next week. So, it's a scheduled appointment. No urgent "can you squeeze me in" type of a deal. We arrive at 10:25a.m. for our 10:30a.m. At 10:45a.m., the nurse calls us back. I'm only slightly miffed at the -once again- lack of respect for my time. And my kids' time. These are the things I ponder that maybe I can help them with:

• Maybe instead of weighing me, they can post the time of my appointment on the chart to face out on the door they keep walking by.


• These doctors always have fancy watches. Are they just decorative? Do they work? And if so, does the watch fashionista ever actually look at the watch for function and to see the time? Or do they just look at it and say, "I'm a bad ass for having this particular watch. Maybe I should get to paying off my loans."


• Where exactly does the poor communication break down? Chick on phone makes appointment. Chick tells or gives schedule to doctor and nurses when they get there. Or do they? I wonder if the doctor even gets a schedule of appointments or just randomly walks through the hall and sees that color coded tab system on the door.


• I could revolutionize medicine right here and right now by getting everyone on a better schedule. I just need a pen and paper and someone to listen to me.


• Why on God's green earth, would you set an 8-year-old in a 10x10 room and tell her to sit there and think on her impending tonsillectomy for 30 minutes?


• Why would you put a clearly disturbed woman who thinks she's really funny in the same 10x10 room with two 8-year-old kids and ask her to wait and be still for 30 minutes?


• Why would you put any child in a room with expensive medical equipment and tell them to sit and wait 30 minutes?

This is what I'm pondering on. I have a new thing I do, that I'll share with you to liberate yourselves in any doctor's office. Open that door. First of all, it gets stuffy in there. Open the door, make the nurses look at you funny, and acknowledge you're in there...waiting. They might try to shut the door citing HPPA laws. But stand firm and disagree. Start waving yourself and tell the nurse it's stuffy in the room. Tell them you'll waive your HPPA rights for some air. Then the nurse may or may not mention something about other people's privacy. That's when you do this: "What time was this appointment again? And what time is it now? " Then they'll run. They have no idea what time your appointment was. That or they have no idea what time it currently is. Besides, they'll avoid you at all costs anyways when you open that door. However, now you have options.

When they opt to ignore you with the door open, start handing out tongue depressors to the kids and play a game of Pick-Up-Stix. Be sure to really encourage the kids get rowdy and loud when you do it. Eventually, the nurse will tell the doctor he or she better get in there.

While all this is going on, Lucy is getting anxious and Max is bored. "Mom, I dont' want to wait anymore." We've read books. We've played Pick-Up-Stix. Max has been through 5 apps on his ipod touch. I've exerted all topics of discussion.
"Mommmmmmuh.....why aren't they coming?"
It's tough to discipline whining when you're right there with them.

When our doctor, who by the way, I usually really like, walks in at 11:20 for a 10:30 appointment, well, I had a plan of verbal attack. For all of insured humanity, I was going to fix this, once and for all.

I was pissed. I'm at the mercy of these people to give Lucy a physical for her tonsillectomy. Its not like I can just walk out and go to urgent care - which I've done before. Because this happens way too often. While I wait I'm composing my lecture for disrespect and the possibility if I can come work here and just keep doctors and nurses on time. Why do I have to be on time - sometimes early to fill out paperwork - only to wait in the waiting room for 20 minutes and then they walk us back to a room with no windows and a 10 x 10 room for 30 minutes more? I'm ready. Let's do this.

When Dr. B walks in I'm so livid I won't even look her in the eyes. She asks "How are we doing?" I coldly announce: "Its 11:15. and my appointment was at 10:30."

"I'm sorry. I was on the phone. My dad...well...my dad might die today." But it was more broken than that - what with all the actual concept of the words she was trying to form and her breath being taken her away and all. Well shit.

I tried to muster, I'm very sorry I was so rude. But she kept talking. I knew this routine all too well.

She tended to Lucy and asked if there were any questions. Distractions were welcomed. I almost whispered in a way more humbled and compassionate tone, "Yes, why are you here?"

She explained, still broken, wiping tears from her eyes that something had happened suddenly on Saturday and they thought he was pulling out of it - but the call suggested he wouldn't make it through the day. I put my hand up to stop her before the weeping turned to sobbing. I explained my dad died suddenly and I wasn't able to speak with him or see him before he died. I begged her to get out of there and go to him. I tried to explain no patient waiting right now will regret missing their appointment on account of you getting to your dad. Not even assholes like me. But she just needed to talk and get through her shit at the office and go. I know, girl. I know.

At that moment, I did what I so rarely do, which I think probably freaked the kids out - I stopped talking. I cut my chatty chat out and we finished as fast as could. No small talk. No nothing.

We left and I reminded myself to look people in the eye and have more compassion. Give people the benefit of the doubt.

Which made for an awkward moment when I wouldn't stop staring into the waiter's eyes at Applebee's later in the same day. I was trying to transmit empathy and let him know that he's a person and I care about that. All in a gaze. Baby steps I suppose. But he took great care of us too. So, there's that.

So, here's to being a kinder me. And I hope you'll consider being a kinder you. It's the best I can do to right this situation.

That's how I roll.
Song of the day: Human Touch by Bruce Springsteen