Guys, all like five of you that routinely read or so.. I want to apologize in advance. Normally I like to keep a certain tone, lightly snarky, maybe a little funny… yeah, I can’t do that today. I’m going to say up front that I’m medically just fine, there was no news of doom or anything… but what did happen has made me hurt and afraid in a different way.
I also want to say that in no way is the worst thing to ever happen- and it’s not exactly me that I’m hurt and afraid for. I’m also going to tell it like it happened and save my reactions for the end.
Mammogram was yesterday, and the problem started from the word go. The desk lady asked why I hadn’t seen Dr. Smith as they recommended as she looked over the referral from Planned Parenthood. I wasn’t able to get an appointment, I said, and left it at that.
She hummed and hawed for a minute, then told me that the testing order was incomplete. The clinic had only ordered a mammogram, they should have also ordered an ultrasound, and could I just take this pager that works like this and a seat while they got in touch with the clinic to see what was going on? And would I be okay to pay the $145 fee for the ultrasound? It wouldn’t be covered by my insurance, you see.
That was at 7:30.
At 8:10ish, the desk lady comes and pulls me into the corridor to tell me that she has not been able to contact the clinic, did I have a different phone number for them?
Here’s where I’m not even kidding, guys. This is a direct quote.
“This might just be the number they use for abortions.”
Stunned, I said again I didn’t have a different number and wandered back to my spot in the waiting room.
At 8:30, desk lady tells me once again she’s had no luck, did I just want to pay the fee so we could get started?
Fine, sure, I have a health savings account, no problem.
Back I go, all the ogrammy piece is done, and still I’m sitting half dressed in another waiting room, with periodic reports from the tech now that they haven’t been able to find out if an ultrasound was meant to be ordered. Fine, sure, I keep waiting.
At 9:30, the tech asks if I have anywhere else to be.
Yes, I have an appointment at 11, no, I can’t sit around here anymore.
We’ll reschedule you, she says, opening the door to the main room and pointing to the chair in which I must sit. To wait.
“Can I get dressed first?” I ask, and get a less than polite reply, and no assistance with a cubicle door that refused to latch shut.
Dressed now and back into the chair to which I had been directed, the desk lady now wants to complain to me about how difficult it was to get in touch with the clinic. I’m not at all interested, and repeated that I had an appointment I needed to get to.
With lingering mutters, she handed me a card for August 9th, and I was finally free to leave.
It’s clear that desk lady had an attitude about Planned Parenthood, and that transferred to me for daring to go there. I have never felt more judged than I felt yesterday. I have never felt less confident in the care and advice I have received than yesterday.
And I’ve never felt more afraid for other women than I did yesterday.
Let’s face it, the petty actions of this desk lady aren’t going to stop me from pursuing the tests I need to or getting the treatment I need if it comes to that.
What about women that aren’t as blessed as I am with those financial and emotional support systems? Are they going to have the ability to keep fighting through the stupid petty bullshit? Will they be able to keep taking days off work for tests, keep wasting time and money only to meet with this kind of attitude and run around?
How many women are letting themselves die because they can’t face that kind of stupid shit?
Why the fuck does it matter to anyone where I got my breast exam? I got care I was comfortable and happy with, period… why do I have to feel the weight of your political opinions during a terrifying moment in my life? Why does anyone think that’s okay?
So in short.. yes, there’s a war on women when it comes to medicine. And that right there? That’s the front line of attack- the receptionist that decides that your paperwork doesn’t measure up. She’s pulling that shit on a person she has every reason to identify with and want to truly help.
But her opinions on abortion are more important and must be felt.
Is rage a condition? I think I’m coming down with it.
Curiouser and Curiouser 