Besides being told that I need to lose weight and to exercise more, and I need to give up red meat and it's time for my tri-annual colonscopy, it appeared that this visit was going to go pretty well. My blood pressure was stellar, my temperature was hovering around 98.6 and I think I gave all the right answers to "any history of heart attack/breast cancer/angina/hepitius A or B/small pox/tuberculosis/pregnancy/pigeon toes in your family?" At least I think I did.
I was also happy that my physical was covered at 100% by my insurance. Not even a co-pay due today. Woot, woot!
I was EVEN HAPPIER that my silly doctor FORGOT (yes, you heard me correctly) to give me a pap smear. I didn't stop smiling for an hour.
And then... my smile disappeared.
As I exited, the check-out
"No, Ma'am. That lady there told me my physical was covered by my insurance."
"Physicals are, but Depression isn't. Depression costs $30."
"You talked about Depression."
"I did??? I did not!"
"It says here you did."
"What???? Were YOU there? Did you HEAR me talk about Depression?" I looked around. "Am I on Candid Camera?"
"Ma'am, you talked about your Depression meds."
"I asked if I could go off of them and the doctor said, 'No, not while you're peri-menopausal'."
"Right. And that's $30. That's not covered by your insurance."
* blink blink *
"I'm confused. Did anyone here tell me NOT to say certain words to the doctor? Does just SAYING the word 'Pristiq' warrant my insurance company to charge me? Can you at least warn me of that next time????"
"Ma'am, would you like me to get the doctor?"
"No. I don't ever want to see her again." I knew I was going to lose this battle. I just felt it. And I didn't feel like that snarky receptionist should see me lose this war. I grumbled, but I wrote the check. I also added, "I want you to know that this will be my last visit here. There have been just too many silly little incidents like this that sit wrong with me."
"Ma'am, I'd be happy to get the doctor for you."
"No, here's your check. I'm outta here."
"I hope you have a wonderful afternoon." And she seemed to mean that. Oblivious that I was livid.
I started to walk away but felt compelled to act like a two-year-old suddenly and threw in, "How can I? I'm out $30."
And I meant it. That was my last visit with a doctor that I have never liked, never had a repoire with and have been considering leaving for quite some time now. But the Nazi didn't have to know that.
And sadly, I came home and found every bit of chocolate that we had in our house and ate it. Right after I went out to lunch with Rick and consumed the largest steak known to man along with a loaded baked potato and pert near an entire loaf of sour dough bread that Rick was lucky to get one bite of.
That oughtta show that doctor.