I just made a call to Essence Health Care (yes, I'm on Medicare!) to change my Primary Care Physician. I had to make this change because although my previous doctor is a nice person with good intentions, I will have to quote Dr. Phil McGraw and Saint Bernard of Clairvaux in saying, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions!"
Via Facebook, it is not possible for me to accurately relay to you the looks on all of the employee's faces in the Doctor's office (including the Dr, himself!) when I walked into the office. They looked at me as if a beautiful, young alien just landed in their midst.
Granted, I am well aware that I do not look like the Average Joe that limps down the street, and that is intentional and by my own design. However.... When I walked into the tiny waiting room of this doctor's office, I noted that by at least two and a half decades, I was the youngest patient in the room. This information did not deter me, and I pressed forward.
Red flags started to go up when I signed in at the receptionist's window, and they had no record of my scheduled appointment. That error was corrected when I showed them the letter that they mailed to my home, with the appointment date and time written on the top of the first page. That did not stop the folks in the office from putting me last on the list to see the doctor, rather than at the correct time slot. Patients with later scheduled times were taken in before my appointment time. Although it took all the power in Heaven and Hell to keep my mouth shut, I tried to choke that one down, and I continued with my visit.
When I finally did get into the exam room, a nurse practitioner who was acting on the behalf of Essence Health Care came in to examine me. Although I firmly believe that she had good intent (see St. Bernard, above), I could tell that this well-paid woman from Essence Health Care really didn't have a clue. That was especially apparent when **I** had to explain to her Erb's Palsy, and it's effects. I am a nurse, I am not a Dr. Even though she really isn't a Dr, she is just a half a step below, and *she* should know more about Erb's Palsy than I do (as just one example...)
At any rate, the nurse practitioner did an exam (and nobody took my vital signs - ever!) , and the Dr. came into the room a few minutes later.
He was far more interested in my knit socks, my 3/4" gauge ear piercings, and my well groomed beard than he was interested in the myriad of crap that is ailing me. It had become clear to me that I was the youngest person that they had **EVER** seen in that office, and that since I was "so young", and rather unique looking, there possibly couldn't be anything wrong with me! What were they expecting of me? Should I have arrived at the appointment with food stuck in an un-groomed beard, bad mismatched Hoosier clothing, my big thick eye glasses stuck on my face in a crooked fashion, and my teeth out? If I had arrived looking like that, I might have captured their attention. Otherwise, it wasn't happening for me.
I will not use this space to whine about the reasons that I went to this Dr., but I can make a guarantee to you, dear reader, that I didn't take time - and money - out of a busy day to go see this man to help build an addition on his home in the Frontenac area of St. Louis. I went to see him BECAUSE I NEED HELP, DAMN IT!
Even though he is the nicest person that I have met in a while, and he is a TRUE fan of mine, he is clueless, and this Dr. simply couldn't see a zebra among the herd of horses. His patients are ALL much older Medicare patients. I am a younger Medicare patient. Because of his inability to switch gears, I now have to go through the pain-in-the-ass of switching Dr's.
"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."
The new Dr. that I have selected is more of a Family Practice Dr. I hope he has seen a wide range of patients in his practice.
- Michael
Via Facebook, it is not possible for me to accurately relay to you the looks on all of the employee's faces in the Doctor's office (including the Dr, himself!) when I walked into the office. They looked at me as if a beautiful, young alien just landed in their midst.
Granted, I am well aware that I do not look like the Average Joe that limps down the street, and that is intentional and by my own design. However.... When I walked into the tiny waiting room of this doctor's office, I noted that by at least two and a half decades, I was the youngest patient in the room. This information did not deter me, and I pressed forward.
Red flags started to go up when I signed in at the receptionist's window, and they had no record of my scheduled appointment. That error was corrected when I showed them the letter that they mailed to my home, with the appointment date and time written on the top of the first page. That did not stop the folks in the office from putting me last on the list to see the doctor, rather than at the correct time slot. Patients with later scheduled times were taken in before my appointment time. Although it took all the power in Heaven and Hell to keep my mouth shut, I tried to choke that one down, and I continued with my visit.
When I finally did get into the exam room, a nurse practitioner who was acting on the behalf of Essence Health Care came in to examine me. Although I firmly believe that she had good intent (see St. Bernard, above), I could tell that this well-paid woman from Essence Health Care really didn't have a clue. That was especially apparent when **I** had to explain to her Erb's Palsy, and it's effects. I am a nurse, I am not a Dr. Even though she really isn't a Dr, she is just a half a step below, and *she* should know more about Erb's Palsy than I do (as just one example...)
At any rate, the nurse practitioner did an exam (and nobody took my vital signs - ever!) , and the Dr. came into the room a few minutes later.
He was far more interested in my knit socks, my 3/4" gauge ear piercings, and my well groomed beard than he was interested in the myriad of crap that is ailing me. It had become clear to me that I was the youngest person that they had **EVER** seen in that office, and that since I was "so young", and rather unique looking, there possibly couldn't be anything wrong with me! What were they expecting of me? Should I have arrived at the appointment with food stuck in an un-groomed beard, bad mismatched Hoosier clothing, my big thick eye glasses stuck on my face in a crooked fashion, and my teeth out? If I had arrived looking like that, I might have captured their attention. Otherwise, it wasn't happening for me.
I will not use this space to whine about the reasons that I went to this Dr., but I can make a guarantee to you, dear reader, that I didn't take time - and money - out of a busy day to go see this man to help build an addition on his home in the Frontenac area of St. Louis. I went to see him BECAUSE I NEED HELP, DAMN IT!
Even though he is the nicest person that I have met in a while, and he is a TRUE fan of mine, he is clueless, and this Dr. simply couldn't see a zebra among the herd of horses. His patients are ALL much older Medicare patients. I am a younger Medicare patient. Because of his inability to switch gears, I now have to go through the pain-in-the-ass of switching Dr's.
"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."
The new Dr. that I have selected is more of a Family Practice Dr. I hope he has seen a wide range of patients in his practice.
- Michael
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