It feels like it’s getting increasingly more difficult to find a physician that both listens to you and is amenable to giving you what you want. There’s no trust or true relationship between doctor and patient and maybe that’s partially because of the increased accountability physicians face these days. Every painkiller, every test, every everything seems to be monitored. There just isn’t any room life for personal interaction.
My recent visit to the OB/GYN is a prime example. This is the most intimate of exams and while I’ve definitely had my fair share of strangers between my legs, I usually prefer to either not talk at all or to not recite some rehearsed dialogue they give to everyone with their legs open. So my doc, who actually I think was a trained midwife, is running through some speech that I can tell she’s recited a hundred times before. Half of the items she mentions does not even apply to me. What’s worse, she is Asian and quite a bit shorter than me and doesn’t ever quite lift her eyes all the way up. The effect is that she is speaking directly to my naked breasts.
Luckily, I’ve also had the experience of more than a few people talking directly to the girls, so this wasn’t all that new to me, but was the first time it’s happened with a medical professional. One of the most uncomfortable moments, both physically and conversationally came when she inserted a few digits to get a lay of land and casually commented how young I look for my age, before saying “To me, you look like a supermodel.” I kept waiting for her to break out the smokes so we could light up together.
My real goal in going to the doctor was to possible extract a prescription for painkillers for my headaches and to take care of my annual business. Keeping in mind that this is not a GP and therefore she might not be comfortable with the pain meds, I approached her more as a friend, hoping she could commiserate in how difficult it is to function with a migraine or bad tension headache. She seemed to understand that point just fine and agreed how awful it is to suffer from chronic pain and that responsible use of darvocet or vicodine can be life savers in managing with the most extreme episodes. Then she quickly changed the subject and managed to insult me and invoke God at the same time.
This happy conversation came at the end when I was tenuously clutching my paper sheet over my naked lower half and trying not to shiver in the freezing exam room. Which, if I might interrupt myself, brings up another good point. Why the hell do they always keep these rooms so cold? Nothing inspires relaxation more than the gentle invasion of a metal speculum while you’re shivering in your well-vented hospital gown and paper sheet. Anyway, so my woman tells me that at 36, my eggs are old and not so good for pregnancy, but should God not bless us with a child, it’s still okay.
After a 45 minute wait in reception, another 10 minutes in an exam room and $144 dollars later for insults, God and awkward statements while in even more awkward positions, I felt hustled. I tell you what, the dentist never makes me feel cheap and he gives me free floss and a toothbrush for my dime. Someone should combine these services. A dental cleaning and annual exam complete with minty fresh breath, free dental hygiene items, and white toothed smiles all around. Then again, I did once catch my dentist staring at my chest, so maybe it’s all the same.
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