Me: “I need to schedule my son’s checkup and he will also need rabies pre-exposure shots.”
Receptionist: “Has your son been bitten?”
Me: “No. This is a school requirement for students who will be handling animals.”
Receptionist: “Well, you can explain it to the doctor when you come in for your check-up.”
Me: “But, this is something the doctor is going to have to special order in for the appointment.”
Receptionist: “You can explain it to the doctor when you come in for your check-up.”
Me: “Can you just leave a note saying what I am requesting?”
Receptionist: “You can explain it to the doctor when you come in for your check-up.”
Me: sigh

Me: “I haven’t gotten my son’s financial aid report or any kind of status report.”
Financial Aid Person: “What is his name and date of birth and social security number?”
Me: quickly spout out the requested information
Financial Aid Person: “He is in the system.”
Me: “Can you tell me if there is a problem is so that I can try to fix it.”
Financial Aid Person: “Not without your son’s written authorization.”
Me: “How can we do that?”
Financial Aid Person: “I will mail him a form.”
Me: sigh

Me: “My son needs rabies pre-exposure shots.”
Nurse T: “Has your son been bitten?”
Me: “No. This is a school requirement for students who will be handling animals.”
Nurse T: “Well, you can explain it to the doctor.”
Me: “My son needs rabies pre-exposure shots.”
Dr. B: “Has your son been bitten?”
Me: “No. This is a school requirement for students who will be handling animals.”
Dr. B: “We don’t have anything like that here. I will write you a prescription.”
Me: sigh

Me: “I have a script that the doctor wrote for rabies pre-exposure shots.”
Pharmacist: “Ummm, I’ll have to look that up. Come back in 45 minutes.”
Me: sigh
The next 45 minutes are spent chasing Evan in the toy aisles.
Me: “I’m here to be told that you can’t fill my son’s script.”
Pharmacist: “Ummm, I don’t know how to fill this script. Maybe you should take it to a veterinarian. Or the CDC.”
Me: sigh

Nurse T: “I can tell you don’t smoke by looking at your skin. Non-smokers look younger than smokers. You have non-smoker skin.”

Doctor B: “You are SO pale. Cancer likes fair skin and you are REALLY fair. Avoid the sun.”

Can I just see Nurse T from now on? I think I like her better.

diagnosis: anemia
treatment: take iron for 2 weeks and return for more extensive testing

I think I need to visit Kari for a second opinion. When my mother was about fifteen years older than I am now, she started losing her hair. The doctors blamed it on stress. Then, she complained about fatigue. The doctors prescribed potassium. Next came scary heart symptoms. This brought on extensive and invasive testing. Eventually, it was diagnosed as a thyroid problem. She had radioactive isotopes put in her thyroid and will take medication to replace the dead thyroid for the remainder of her life. In the YEARS it took to get a diagnosis, she lost most of her hair. So, you will forgive me if I am doubtful of this “take iron” and wait diagnosis. Especially since my hair started thinning when I was still taking prenatal vitamins and is now embarrassingly thin. What bothers me only slightly less than my hair loss is the fact that I have met and read so many, many women who start having health problems when they are perimenopausal and doctors ALWAYS follow the pattern of diagnosing it as stress, then it’s aging and finally it’s some variation of chronic fatigue. I don’t want to be one of those women who are constantly whining about their physical health issues and shopping for better doctors. I may as well buy a good wig and just accept that doctors don’t know jack. Every day I understand better why generations of women before me were addicted to valium and alcohol. A spoonful of sugar helps ease the bitterness.

I finally made an appointment with the doctor.
Me: “I need an appointment to have a blood panel done with a thyroid scan.”
Woman on phone: “Do you have doctor’s orders?”
Me: “No, but if you let me talk to Dr.B’s nurse I will have them.”
Woman on phone: “I’m sorry. You’ll need an appointment with Dr.B.”
Me: “Fine. I would like an appointment with Dr.B.”
Woman on phone: “Okay. What will you be seeing Dr.B about?”
Me: blink blink

Everyone do a ‘cost-less-than-a-house-note’ doctor bill dance.

I held Evan in my lap so that I could get my annual (yes, once a year) haircut this evening. I should be in a fabulous mood, but the hair stylist commented on my hair texture and suggested I get my thyroid checked. Since I can’t afford to do anything about it, I think I was better off not knowing.