Had an appointment to see a neurologist yesterday. It would seem the last doc I saw about my Restless Leg Syndrome didn’t like the medication I’m taking, so he referred me to a doctor who could prescribe stronger meds.
As long as stronger meds mean they knock me out at bedtime, I’m cool.
My appointment was at 7:15pm. I arrived at 6:40pm.
When the receptionist sees me, she lets out this excited, “Oh!” which I took to mean, “Good, we can get you in sooner.”
As I’m filling out the form, the receptionist picks up the phone and tells the doc that I’ve arrived.
She hangs up from him, and calls someone else, and I hear her say, “I’m sorry you weren’t able to make the last appointment, but if you can get here in the next few minutes, we can squeeze you in.”
My eyebrows raise.
Ummm…hello? I’m right here. I’m early. Squeeze me in.
But I don’t say anything because I also hear her say to the person on the other end of the phone, “Well, would you like to reschedule for another time then?” which to me, would mean that the person can’t make it tonight, so I’m next.
I go and sit down, confident that I’ll be called into the doc’s office, since nobody else is even in the waiting room.
There’s a big screen tv on the wall, and it is now 6:45pm, and the commercials are
warning advertising that Dancing with the Stars is coming on at 7pm.
Please God let me be in the office by 7pm..
And here’s your host Tom Bergeron.
A Brazilian wax would be far less painful than watching David Hasselhof sashaying his big butt all over the stage. Badly.
The receptionist calls my name.
I enter the doc’s office.
These are his first words upon hearing the reason for my visit:
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
…huh?…I just want drugs. For my legs. ‘Cause they wiggle at night.
Doctor Neurologist asks me to describe what exactly I mean by Restless Leg Syndrome. How do I know it’s Restless Leg Syndrome? How does it feel? Am I sure it’s Restless Leg Syndrome? Who told me it was Restless Leg Syndrome?
When he finally pulled his head out of his self-important ass long enough to listen to my list of symptoms, which I was describing as tingly, itchy, restless, throbbing, achy, shooting, kicking my husband in the chins all night, the doc then said, “Is that everything?” to which I replied, “Is that not enough?”
At that point, he looked up, smiled indulgently, and said, “Do you have any neurological problems?”
…uummm…Restless Leg Syndrome maybe?
When it was all said and done, he said the medication I was taking was fine.
Actually, “Why fix what isn’t broken?” were his exact words.
Clearly the good doctor is fond of famous phrases.
Wish he was familiar with this one, “If you want to pretend you’re too busy to take a patient when she comes early, you shouldn’t be wandering around the halls aimlessly, chatting with the cleaning guy!”