Doctor’s office visit or the Twilight Zone?

Since 2009, I have seen more doctors than I cared to mention.  I have more on speed-dial than my 95-year old grandmother.  Both my appendix and my gall bladder are gone, as well as my uterus.  I’ve seen surgeons, allergy specialists, ob-gyns, ultrasound techs, radiologists.  It’s an exhausting list, and one I am not proud of. 

I recently was referred to a neurologist.  I suffer from migraines; I have since I was 4 years old. My Physician’s Assistant and I have discussed causes/triggers in great detail, and we are exploring the option of Botox.  Studies have shown that Botox cuts down on the number of headache days per month – in some people, effective enough to last 3 months.  If I went 3 months without a headache, I’d do cartwheels, if I were capable of doing one. 

My first visit with the neurologist was this past Monday.  My appointment was at 3:15pm and I left work early enough to fill out the mound of paperwork necessary when you are a new patient. To kill the time, I signed into to their WiFi so I could play Farmville….no dice. My phone would not connect, so now I’m bored. After about an hour in the waiting room, I was called back to an exam room.  The nurse advised me to wait about 10-15 minutes before putting on the gown.  Wait….what?  I’m just here for a consult!  Why the gown, the most fashionable article of clothing ever? 

I shrugged my shoulders and waited the suggested 10-15 minutes to put on the gown.  After I put it on, I tried to find ways to sit on the examining table without revealing the fact I haven’t shaved my legs in 2 months.  And then I waited. And waited.  Another hour goes by.

Outside of the room, I finally hear rustling of papers.  And a man’s voice.  Finally!  The doctor. I may get out of here before midnight.  

I’m not sure if he and his nurse are aware of this, but the walls are thin. Like in paper-thin.  As in “I-can-hear-everything-you’re-saying” thin.  

Doctor: “I can’t get into her chart”

Nurse: “That’s because that’s Allyson Johnson’s chart, not Allyson Johns’”

Doctor: “That’s not Allyson Johnson in there?”

I feel like yelling out – “Why don’t you ask me?  Of everyone here, I think I’d know my name better than you people.”

Nurse: “No, her name is Allyson Johns.”

Finally, the doctor is able to access a chart.  I can hear more paper rustling, and then the doctor enters the room.  I try to keep myself from laughing out loud – he looks like a French Impressionist painter and Gargamel from the Smurfs got together and had a baby.  Black mock turtleneck, black pants, black shoes.  I wanted to rush out and buy him a beret. 

He sits down by the table, still reading the chart.  He finally looks at me and says “How is your vertigo?” (Strike One)

Me: “I haven’t been dizzy in a long time.”

Doctor: “You’re not suffering from vertigo?”

Me: “No, I’m here about my migraines.”

Doctor (looking puzzled): “What about your ear? Have you recovered from the surgery?” (Strike Two)

Me: “What surgery? I’m here about my migraines.”

Doctor: “So you don’t suffer from an eating disorder or psychological issues?” (Strike Three, doc)

Me: “No. I’m here about my migraines.” 

At this point, I happen to glance down at the chart.  Clearly written, across the top, it reads “Allyson Johnson”.   I point that out to him, quickly losing confidence in his medical expertise. 

Doctor: “Oh, my goodness, I’m so embarrassed.  I told the nurse I had the wrong chart.”

Really? Because that’s not the way I heard the conversation. Right outside this door.  Thru paper-thin walls.

We finally get down to the reason I am there.  He tests my reflexes on both my knees and my wrists, tests my equilibrium and my neck tension.  He prescribes me some medication for the tension in my neck.  I finally bring up the Botox option, which is the reason that I am there.

Doctor: “Oh, I don’t do those.  If we go that route, I’ll refer you to someone else”.

At this point, I am glad this appointment is wrapping up because I want to get off this crazy train.  I’m beginning to think I do suffer from psychological issues, but not before this office visit.  He drove me to them.  

Written by: Allyson Johns