Medical Office Delays

About fifteen years ago I changed doctors. It wasn't that I didn't like the doctor I'd been seeing for more than ten years. I liked her a lot. But there was always a wait -- a long wait -- in the office. One day, after a stint in the waiting room, I was taken into the examining room where I was told to undress and put on a paper gown. I did. There was no chair, so I perched on the end of the examining table and waited. My back got tired. The room was chilly. The paper gown was skimpy. After thirty minutes, I got dressed again and told the front desk that 30 minutes was too long to sit nearly naked on the end of an examining table. I found a new doctor and like her even better.

Today I had a flashback to that scene. I'd made an appointment for treatment of a minor foot issue. The podiatrist was someone I've known for a long time. He's treated minor foot issues for me before, and always given me good advice. And, besides, I used to work for him, transcribing his chart notes and his letters.

I got to my appointment on time. A little bit early because of my paranoia about being late and inconveniencing someone. After an hour and a half in the waiting room, with no communication and no explanation, and watching four people who had arrived after I had be taken back for treatment, I decided to leave. I told the front desk I'd been waiting for an hour and a half and no one had said offered me any explanation -- there's been an emergency, for example -- and four subsequent arrivals had gone back. Then the girl kind of half-heartedly offered to find out what was going on, but I declined, telling her that if I had been the one who was an hour and a half late, Dr. A wouldn't be eager to see me. I pointed out that there are lots of other foot doctors. And I came home and started dinner. We're going to have the best-mixed meatloaf ever tonight.