Today had all of the makings of a most excellent day.
I saw 6:30am, something I haven’t done in months. I was dressed, primped, and out of my house on the way for coffee by 7:45. I got to my doctor’s appointment ahead of time for once, so I was called back on time. *this is where my day began to go to shit*
My “doctor” isn’t actually a doctor at all, she is a Nurse Practitioner. This is important to me, because I am fairly sure that somewhere in MD school there is an entire semester (or more) devoted to the art of pompous douchebaggery. (Maybe its classes PDMD 601-604, but you only have to take 603 and 604 if you take on a specialty, anything over 604 is optional for those who specialize in the areas of the heart and brain.)
Now I don’t just say this as a person who visits doctors on the regular, but as one who has worked for them for just north of 10 years. You can work *with* PA’s and NP’s, but you must NEVER forget that you are working **FOR** an MD.
So back to my day going to hell… My doctor is apparently on vacation this week, so I had to see one of her colleagues. This colleague will hereafter be known as Dr Douchebag, or Dr D for short.
Dr D was in the room with me for a whopping 4 minutes, so I could tell that his time was very valuable, and apparently he could tell that I was there in an effort to waste his valuable time. Never mind the fact that my doctors office is in a different TOWN than I live, and I drive nearly 45 minutes to go there, but hey my life is that boring right, I get up at the butt-crack of dawn and drive to another town simply in an attempt to waste someone’s time, sounds fabulous.
I must be simply transparent. Despite my being there for a simple 3 month follow up to get meds renewed, Dr D (in four minutes mind you) found the cure to EVERY ONE of my medical conditions. What is this miracle cure, you ask? It is quite simple, and I remember his wording quite well, so I think that I will just quote him.
“You know, if you could simply stop getting seconds all the time, you could be skinny. You surely would not need an anti-depressant or medicine for your thyroid condition then. Oh yes, and someone of your size should NEVER have snacks. You see, when you get done eating, you should still be hungry. Yes, this will help you much. Here are your prescriptions. You shall return in one month.”
And then he just walks out of the room. I sit there for a moment, stunned, a bit confused, and increasingly angry.
Here are my thoughts on Dr D’s life changing diagnosis… Are you fucking kidding me? If the object of eating is to be hungry when I am finished, how about I skip firsts, instead of the *nonexistent* seconds I am “always eating”. I mean, surely not eating at all is an easier thing to accomplish than what he has stated. Here is an idea; I know I am overweight Dr Douchebag. I am working on it, though difficult to see in four minutes I am sure. What you have effectively done is make me desire nothing more than a tissue box and a pint, no scratch that, a gallon of Häagen-Dazs. Thank you for your kind words of encouragement.
So that is where we are, it is exactly 11am, and I am in a homicidal mood already. It is going to get better though. How do I know; Bossy Pants by Tina Fey. I bought it last night and 20 pages in I had to stop reading because I was laughing so hard that I started crying. I could use the tears of laughter today. I am off to read. Hope your day has started, and will continue to be, better than mine.
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