Legolas McGee (severedscythe) wrote in bad_service,
Legolas McGee
severedscythe
bad_service

Doctors and nurses and morons, oh my!

So. I went to the doctor.



It wasn't my regular doctor. My regular doctor, RG, was out on long service leave after a particularly nasty health scare. The man's known me since I was fourteen months old, so he's always been pretty awesome.

But I got this symmetrical, shooting pains in my wrists. So I was understandably worried and went to see this other doctor, Dr.T. The man straight up and says, after I've explained my problem, that I have rheumatoid arthritis and that I need to have a blood test to confirm this.

I freak out. Not until I get home, but I flip. Because I did some reading up and if I had it, it'd mean a huge freaking shift not only in my thinking, but also in my day to day life. I'd have to give up my industry and my degree would be for nothing and just. No. So.

I do the blood test (side note, I was told that pathology would contact me with results. They didn't. I waited for nearly a week (with calls to see when they'd be ready and I was always told "a couple of days." or "tomorrow." or "next monday(wtf)") until I called and went "uhh" and they went "durr, no you were supposed to call the doctors surgery and arrange for another appointment." and I told them that wasn't what I was told and they said it was weird, but didn't apologise or anything. so yay.

So I go back. The guy basically says "yeah, you have it." Cue freaking. But then he corrects himself and tells me that it's only the POSSIBILITY I have it and I need another blood test. So off to pathology I go. Keep in mind that at this point, I'm a hundred and twenty dollars, not including pathology billing, out of pocket.

So I rebook for the thursday, which is three days away. My pain has been shifting and gets so bad at points that I can not even dress myself. I can't sleep because no position is comfortable and regular painkillers don't help, so I just stop taking them. I've never broken a bone or anything so I can't judge just how bad the pain is, but oh crap, it hurts.

So I go back. The lady at the front desk tells me that they booked my appointment for another thursday (in two weeks! cue wtf) and I make noise and wait for an extra hour to get in to see him.

He tells me that A) I don't have arthritis, so I go yay! and then B) that it's not a rheumatoid problem. Also a yay!

And then he tells me he doesn't know what it is. He sits there in silence for about thirty seconds while I stare at him, and then when I ask him how he can find OUT he goes into action.

By referring me to a rheumatologist. With an appointment in July.

Right.

So I'm understandably pissed. Also, now a hundred and eighty dollars (I do not HAVE) out of pocket. And I'm dubious, so when my family doctor gets back a couple of days later, I go and see him.

He gives me a list, in three seconds, of what it might be. He's also bewildered because the blood tests the other doctor had ordered didn't take my rheumatoid factor which, duh, is used to diagnose rheumatoid problems. and I still have speckled blood in my test results, so he orders another batch. I've been in pain for three weeks now and find out my results tomorrow, but for the love of all that is holy and good in the multiverse, I want to smack the idiot I went to in the first place STRAIGHT in the face.

When I get my results, I'm calling the first doctor and I'm going to go off my nut. Because if it's something as simple as Glandular Fever, I will kill him. And I will tell EVERYONE where I stashed the body.

The end.

Crossposted to my regular journal
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