Somewhat Funny Things: Ars Medicina

Modern medicine is a wonderful thing. Its got us dying less and living longer, and there is little doubt that we have it a lot better then those chuckle-heads who had to put up with bloodletting and humorism.

So you are sure this will help my anemia?

But for all the improvements to the length and quality of my life, I still find myself with a deep desire to take a metaphoric kick to the medical community's symbolic balls.

Pictured: Rhetorical operations at work.

Why? Have I undergone some terrible medical procedure or surgery that left me with unintended side effects? Have I been misdiagnosed and suffered harm from improper treatment? Have I been subjected to medical malpractice?

No, I have been scheduled for a physical.

(Note: I will not be making any turn your head and cough jokes. If you were looking for those please move along.)

This is not what we will be talking about.

I haven't actually had the physical yet (that is next week), but my doctor wanted me to have some tests done in advance so I went in to take care of those today. All in all I was scheduled to get an EKG and a few blood tests followed a week later by a regular physical. My doctor assured me it was a common practice for folks on the medication he had just prescribed me, and that it would all be very simple and routine. All of this was set up three months ago.

I want you to keep three parts of that in mind going forward:

My doctor frequently prescribed this exact thing to his patients.
It consisted of common and routine tests.
It was scheduled 3 Months in Advance.

So, I show up at my scheduled appointment time, sit patiently in the waiting room until twenty minutes after my scheduled appointment time, and then I am finally called back into the office. All par for the course, as far a doctor visits go.

That is, until I am confronted by a perplexed medical assistant.

"So, are you just here for a checkup or...?" She said, cocking her head inquisitively.

"No, I am here for some tests for my physical next week."

"Oh," She looked down at her clipboard. "Well, if you need blood tests you have to go to the diagnostics place across the hall. They handle all..."

"No, no, no," I interjected, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "I need an EKG from you guys. The doctor explicitly ordered it because of the medication I am on."

"Oh," She adjusted her Snoopy themed scrubs with annoyance, then addressed me as though the confusion were my fault. "Well, there wasn't anything on your record and when I asked the doctor he didn't know why you were here..."

"Here," I produced the forms sent to me outlining the tests (as arcane and incomprehensible as they were). "These are from your office ordering the tests."

"Oh!" She smiled, demeanor back to a cheery public servant as she scanned the form. "Okay. Must have just been a mixup, and the doctor has been seeing you so long he probably still thinks of you as a little kid! (Remember facts number 1 and 2)" She laughed and dropped the form in a random clerical worker's inbox.

"Um, won't I need that when I go for the bloodwork?"

"No," She waved her hand absently. "We will put it all in the system and they can just look you up when you get there."

"Oh, good, because your record keeping has proven comprehensive and reliable thus far."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

So, after that lovely conversation I get my EKG (in what was not only the only room in the office where patients are garenteed to be shirtless but also colder then a meat locker),

Is this what you wanted Doctor!?

and go on my merry way to the diagnostic lab. I sign in, sit down in the waiting room, and again waste time well past my appointment.

Finally, the receptionist calls me up to the desk.

"Name?"

"James Tiberius Harper"

"Date of Birth?"

"4/29/87. Didn't I write all this down when I signed in?"

"Of course," He said, clearly annoyed that I would question his skills as a desk jockey. "But I am having some trouble finding you in the system."

"Oh god damnit, not this shit again."

"Sir, please keep such language to a minimum." He gestured to the waiting room behind me. "There could be children present."

"Uh huh," I looked back at the tiny room and nodded to the only other occupant, an elderly gentleman. "Sure."

"Did you just come from the doctor's office?"

"Yeah. They told me to just head on over."

"They probably just don't have your info in yet (Remember fact 3). If you want to have a seat I can try again in a bit."

"Yes, because clearly I have not done enough sitting around today."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

Fifteen minutes, three more checks, and a trip to back to the doctor's office later, and I am standing at the desk with both the original medtech and the receptionist.

"Yeah, its been doing that for a while. We put it in, and it never shows up over here!"

"Really? And you are sure you put it in?"

"Yeah. Happens all the time. Just the other day a lady came over here and only had one diagnosis on her file. We put in at least six of them!"

"Huh, weird. Oh well, I will just put it in manually for now."

"Man, I am glad this didn't happen on some sort of critical information system. I mean, if Facebook flubbed and lost my status update, serious shit would go down, but missing or inaccurate medical information couldn't possible hurt anyone, right?"

"Huh?" They both looked back at me simultaneously.

"Nevermind. So I get my test now?"

"Sure, just a few routine questions first. You don't have any allergies, right?"

"No,"

"And what medications are you on?"

"Only the one that caused these damnable tests and any that might be on the medical history form sitting on your desk."

"Hm," They both gave me a sharp look. "And you have been fasting?"

"What?"

"Fasting. You have to fast 12 hours before these tests."

"No one ever told me that."

"We can't perform the test if you have eaten today. Have you eaten?"

"Of course, no one told me not to."