Say aaaaahhhhhh.....

I was at our doctor's office today, for my annual check-up. I use the term "our doctor" with a smile on our face. I picked this particular physician out of a book, for the simple reason that he was close by, and because in order to get an appointment with a specialist, we need to have a referring physician (according to the rules of our health plan).

When I first met this doctor, I was impressed with him. He was nice enough, and took the time to answer questions, and seemed to be listening. I didn't like the way his front office was run, though. When you walk in the waiting room, there's a sign-in sheet next to their sliding glass windows which conceal the rooms where the office staff works. No one greets you as you walk in, no one even acknowledges that you are there. You're just expected to sign your name and take a seat. (And bring something to read, because most of their magazines are out-dated.) After fifteen minutes or so, one of the staff will slide the little window open and look at the new names on the sheet so the files can be pulled.

Perfect opportunity for one of the girls to look out into the waiting room and say hello to the patients who are waiting, wouldn't you think? But that doesn't happen. The girls behind that window do their best not to make eye contact with the patients. You're not acknowledged until someone opens the door and calls your name so you can be escorted back into one of the examining rooms.

So all of that didn't set right with me, but I let it go, figuring the manners of the doctor was more of a concern than the lack-of-manners of his office staff. My opinion of the doctor changed a bit when he ordered a bunch of tests for me. I don't even remember what set that whole thing into motion a few years ago, but he insisted that I have my liver checked, to make sure it was functioning well. At the time, I thought the tests couldn't hurt, and I went along, knowing the health insurance would probably pick up the tab.

Which they did, of course, and (of course) the doctor must have known that from the get-go. One simple test led to two, which led to three, which led to four. I started to balk at the third, and then he came into the exam room to tell me that I didn't have to take the test, but then I'd be putting myself at risk because he wouldn't have enough data to form a proper diagnosis. His next statement to me was "How lucky do you feel?"

My first thought after that question was that it was not a professional way for a doctor to be talking to a patient. The result of his question was that I allowed the third and even the fourth tests to be done, for the simple reason that I was nervous about not getting everything tested. At the end of all of that, he told me that I was just fine. Which I had thought all along, but I figured he was just covering his butt with all the tests, knowing the costs weren't coming out of my pocket anyway.

Two weeks after that, his office called to let me know there was yet another "definitive test" available that the doctor suggested I take, "just to make sure his diagnosis was on target." I politely told the girl on the phone that I didn't need another test, that I was just fine, and that I really didn't need the doctor to ask me again how lucky I felt.

Well, she must have written my reply down on my chart, because the next time I went into his office for my check-up, he told me that the policy of his office was to take more tests than necessary, rather than fewer than needed, for the safety and emotional well-being of his patients. (He neglected the part about getting extra money from the health insurance companies.)

I've kept going to his office for my yearly check-up, mainly because the office is convenient. I still don't like the way the front office is set up, with that glass window that you can't see through. And I wouldn't submit myself to any more tests without getting another opinion. His name is on our health insurance card as being our "family physician," which is needed for any sort of a referral to a specialist.

So if anything ever were really wrong with me, I'd go to his office, ask for the name of a specialist, get the referral from the doctor, and be on my merry way. And I'd feel very lucky indeed.

Doctors. As my dad always says--- Not every doctor has graduated at the top of his class.