Doctors

It's been a while since your last visit, says the doctor. Here, take this (he hands me a clipboard with some blank forms on it, and a ballpoint pen) and fill it out, please.  It's to update any changes in your medical history.  Sit over there.  Take your time.

The doctor is an oral surgeon whom I last saw some five or six years ago.  The blank form I am required to complete is three pages long.  The last page is legal boilerplate stuff with a place for a signature and a date at the bottom.  Most of the text on the page is about my being legally responsible for the doctor's charges, even if I have dental insurance coverage, which I do. Should there be problems with my insurer, it does not concern the doctor, who will look to the patient for remedy. The legalese also allows the doctor and his agents to share my medical information with others who may have legitimate reasons to have access to it.

The doctor's attractive receptionist has not yet arrived.  It is a very early appointment that I have, eight o'clock in the morning.  That is why the good doctor has to sit at the receptionist's desk himself, handing out clipboard and questionnaire and pen.  On the receptionist's desk is a framed photograph of a dark-haired toddler.  Probably the woman's child, I figure, and maybe the reason she has not yet shown up for work.

I was looking forward to seeing the receptionist, who has large eyes with thick lashes and is physically very well-endowed.

The questionnaire is not difficult to fill out.  I know the names of my medications, and their dosage.  For the majority of the ailments listed on the questionnaire I can truthfully check the box for No. For the handful of questions where the answer must be checked Yes, brief explanations can be offered by using letters of the alphabet, which after many years of consulting doctors I have learned to recognize. (HTTP, USB, LPT, NTSC etc.  Just kidding, just kidding, these are not them.)

Actually, all things considered, my health is pretty good for a guy my age.  Sure, there are the usual bits here and there that may not be working like I would wish them to, but on the whole the ol' corpus is holding together in a seemly manner.  

I try to be consistent with my daily walk, do my best to keep active, get fresh air and sunshine whenever possible. Eat well.  Think good thoughts.

So now the oral surgeon examines xrays of the troublesome tooth.  Not a crack, he tells me, not an abscess, no root canal job called for. Let's wait and see. Don't bite down on that side, give it a rest. Take Tylenol for pain, see me in a month, unless something else shows up before.

Sigh of relief.   On my part.

I go out to the reception area. The receptionist has not yet arrived.  It is after nine A.M.  The doctor puts me down in his appointment book for a date in mid-March.

You prefer early morning? he says without looking up.  

I am on the point of asking him what time his receptionist comes to work, but that would have been too awkward a question to put to him, for various reasons.  Instead I answer simply that early morning is fine.

How about 9:30, he says.  

Fine, I reply.

In time, his bill will show up in the mail.