Been There, Done That by Laura Nethken

Published:

The good news is I didn't have enough money for gas to get to Twinsburg. That's good news because if I did, I would have needed bail money to get me out of jail for wringing the neck of the lady from the doctor's office who called.

I thought all the drama was over the day we went to the doctor. My husband's new endocrinologist is in Twinsburg.

His regular doctor referred him to one in Hudson, which would have been an easier drive for me, but it turned out to be the same one who refused to give our oldest son an appointment before he ran out of insulin.

I called to make him an appointment and girlfriend says "How about Wednesday?" Great. "And his name?" When I told her, she put me on hold a minute and came back on to say that the next available appointment was in a month. What happened to Wednesday?

He'd be out of insulin by then. But I accepted the appointment while she stressed emphatically that he absolutely, positively had to be there. Yeah, whatever.

I spent the next week getting him an appointment elsewhere so he could blow that one off. Which apparently really ruffled their feathers. They sent him four letters (two by certified mail) to inform him that he would no longer be accepted as a patient there. Ooh, scary.

Actually, it'd be way scarier if he was their patient. So we decided that wasn't the place for Dave, either.

That's OK, I can get to Twinsburg without using the freeway. It wasn't a straight shot by any means, but it didn't take a whole lot longer than the freeway would've and neither one of us was white-knuckling it the whole way there.

They actually offer valet parking at the doctor's office. We parked our own vehicle and walked -- in the pouring rain -- sharing my little umbrella.

Well, sort of. He held it up over his head, which at nearly a foot taller than me did little to protect me from getting soaked. It didn't kill me, though. I've been wet before and it didn't kill me then, so it probably wasn't going to this time either.

Although I wasn't so sure about the revolving door at the entrance. I've seen them on TV. I don't know that I've ever used one before. Dave went through no problem. I tried to go with him, but that wasn't working. I was going to get clocked by that thing and had to wait for the next opening. Fine. I survived.

We showed our paper at the first desk and were told where to find the elevators for the third floor.

I survived the elevator ride relatively unscathed, especially since it didn't have any glass sides. I find those to be a particularly evil double-whammy. And nothing compared to what came next.

We had to walk the entire length of the side of the building to get to the desk we needed, and the outer wall of the building was made of glass.

I slunk along the interior wall with my eyes closed as best I could. For those of us with an insane fear of heights, the third floor with glass walls is a major no-no.

Dave got called in and I hunkered down beside him as we made our way. An older lady in a wheelchair asked if I was cold. No, just afraid of heights. And she laughed as I nearly landed in her lap trying to get as far away from the windows as possible.

The appointment went great and the nurse said Dave's blood pressure was nice and low. That's because we didn't take the freeway, and he's not afraid of revolving doors or heights.

But the real drama came when the lady from the doctor's office called my cell phone to talk to Dave about his lab results from the blood work he had done the day before.

Well, I'm at work and he's at home, so I thought she could just tell me. Of course she couldn't, HIPAA laws and all. I gave Dave her name and number and he tried three times to reach her. All that got him was all wound up.

I called her and had her call him and insisted she call me right back. And as I waited, I felt my life slipping away.

Oh my God, they're calling the very next day to talk to him about his blood work. Doctor's offices don't call you the next day with results unless something is wrong. What is it? Cancer? Leukemia? My stomach tightened into a deep knot as I waited for the worst.

And then she called back. "Everything's fine," she said, "Although his calcium is a bit high. The meds he's on should take care of that, though."

And we're supposed to just stick to the regimen the doctor gave us less than 24 hours before. No kidding.

I said a silent prayer of thanks for his good health and my lack of gas money. Then she told me to "Have a good day." I won't say what I told her.

Copyright 2014 Laura Nethken

Want to leave your comments?

Sign in or Register to comment.