You're Fired

2005-10-29
12:44 a.m.

We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.

~~~Joseph Campbell

Earlier this summer I called my doctor�s office and asked for an appointment. After some moments, which included my repeating my name and birth date at least twice, a very embarrassed secretary said �Ummm, you�ve been released from the practice.�

As you would expect, I said, �Excuse me, released, is that a euphemism for You�re Fired?�

�You should have gotten a letter,� she went on to explain. �This was effective July 5.�

�No,� I replied, �but that does not surprise me in the least.�

And it didn�t.

In the previous nine months, this family practice lost my chart on three separate occasions.

It took their nurses an average of six weeks to report the results of tests which were back in their office in less than a week, despite the fact that they had my home, office, and cell phone numbers. Each time I called, the chart was invariably �unavailable�, a euphemism for �lost again� I suspect.

During my last appointment, the doctor insisted she could not give me the results of my last cholesterol test, as *thumbing through chart* she had not ordered a cholesterol for a year. I suggested that the blood drawn March 4 must have been imaginary and this was, perhaps, yet another example of things which go pffft! in the night. (or something to that effect � you get the picture).

Two days later, on a Friday at 9:00 in the morning, I called to request a prescription refill (I was going out of town and needed to pick it up that day). �I�m not sure we can get to it today,� says the secretary. �Why?� suggests I half-kidding. �Is this TGIF day or something?�

She was not laughing.

She apparently found my chart, and called me to confirm the refill request had gone to the pharmacy. I waited until 4:00 to pick it up. No prescription.

A call to the doctor�s office had them insisting it was faxed. �Would you please fax it again� I suggested and gave them the number � again. Twenty minutes of standing by the pharmacy fax machine � no fax. So I called again.

�We did it.� says the receptionist.

�Did YOU do it?� asks I.

�Well, no, but I gave it to the runner�.

�May I suggest you go back and actually stick the paper in the machine your very own self?� says I with as much patience and forbearance as possible at 5:00 in the evening knowing their office is actually now closed and this is my last chance and I should have been home an hour ago and my plane was leaving in two hours and I was thinking of other places I could have asked her to stick it, which may well have gotten the results more quickly had I suggested it.

Yes � it finally arrived the THIRD time it was ostensibly faxed. (Want to put a wager on the first two?)

By Tuesday my patronage had been terminated (ps: it took almost thirty days to get the letter saying so.)

But you know what happened? I got off my sorry butt and did something I should have done nine months ago. Called other doctors in my zip code until I got somebody that sounded good � who squeezed me into an appointment THAT SAME DAY. I sat down with one of the most wonderful doctors I ever met. Who, by the way, resolved an issue that had been plaguing me for weeks in exactly thirty seconds. And who, after my third visit, personally called me back with the results of my tests so we could formulate a plan of attack together.

I don�t know why we accept being treated like shit. Is it because we know how to get there, we know their name, their phone number is programmed into our cell phone and we don�t like to start over again answering all the detailed questions a new relationship inevitably requires?

It takes a lot of time, energy, and commitment to build the mutual respect and trust a good solid relationship needs to thrive. Perhaps it�s that we fear our investments will just be wasted if the new one turns out to be just as bad, or worse, than our current one.

Maybe we get so comfortable with the familiar we get afraid to make a change, even when we know deep down in our hearts it is the right thing to do.

My old doctor did me a great service � and I wrote a letter to thank her for it.

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