Kimday Kickoff and doc crazypants

Well, the week has been pretty mundane, but I did kick it off with a little MJ. Well done. Showcases both the geniuses of MJ and Kenny Ortega. Choreography, graphics--amazing. My friend and I were singing and dancing in the back. Sadly, the place was bare, and the few people who were there sat stoically in their seats, munching popcorn like tools.

Since then, I've been working my ass off with midterms (last one due Monday) and other assignments. I present in San Fran next week, so I've got some last minute stuff to put together, and my research project finally got approved, so I've started recruitment.

Oh, Halloween was fun but again, barren. NO one was out.

And I'm still fighting off the funk, which doc crazypants says is allergies. I forgot to write about the doc crazypants saga. I went in for upper respiratory problems, and he was more concerned that I hadn't had a pap smear in 2 years, reminding me that women's bodies are like wet paint. Things, apparently, stick to us like little pieces of fuzz, lint, and dirt do to a freshly painted wall.

Ok, first of all, since when did pap smears become less about preventative medicine (read: cancer and the like) and more about cleaning out my insides from all the wild, crazy, "lint" producing sex women have? Isn't this why it is called a well woman exam? It's like that damn vaccine to protect against cervical cancer. Hello? A) why aren't men vaccinated; B) um, sometimes cervical cancer just happens! It's not all about a nasty cooch. And furthermore, I went in to have my damn ears, nose, and throat looked at! WTF? Ah well, chalk it up to all the fuckwit docs I've had through the years.

Ok back to midterming and hot tea.

Pinenut, also the name of a city

OMG, my left tonsil is the size of a freakin' Brazil nut! I guess the exhaustion after the 8 mile run was not the goblins breaking loose ahead of time but instead the pathogens. I slept all day yesterday, and I could've done so today had I not spent the ENTIRE day on the phone trying to find a doc.

My doc, in my old 'hood, is off on Mondays. Actually, she's off on Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, but who's counting. God, I need to be a doctor. So I'm scrounging around trying to find a doc that is 1)on my insurance plan and 2) somewhere in Stepford--er--I mean Clear Lake. The first person I called is not practicing right now because she is under disciplinary action by the board of medicine. Would I like to make an appointment for the future? Um, NO.

The second person looked fine on paper until I called and the receptionist said, "Hello, Geriatric Ward." Um, NO.

So then I start going even further down the BCBS PPO list: 1) Let's see, um, Doc U? Oh right, that's the idiot who was convinced I had a venereal disease while she gave me a pelvic bc she was concerned about an abnormal amount of lube in my nether regions. Turns out she forgot she had already applied the KY Jelly, and her PA had to remind her. Then she starts laughing and snorts right in my crotch. NO THANK YOU. 2) Doc P, oh right. That's the BITCH who called me obese when I "ballooned" up to a size 8 during my "I hate working in public schools" phase.

So then I call Doc somebody or other. I was on the phone listening to Josh Groban's greatest hits for 15 minutes without talking to a single human. I finally hung up, went to Chinese class, bought last minute crap for my marathon, and drank a cappuccino before calling her back. I drove from Montrose to Clear Lake on hold listening to Beethoven's greatest hits--still no human. Finally, I made it home, called again, made dinner, cleaned out my purse, fed my cats, and unpacked a box (no I'm not finished unpacking) while listening to yanni's greatest hits, when finally I got a human. She told me that out of 16 doctors in what I call an assembly line clinic, no one could see me for 2 weeks. She actually tried to make me an appt for 2 weeks from now. I said, "Lady, my tonsil is swollen the size of a Brazil nut...[insert explanation to the lady as to exactly how large a Brazil nut is]...and it's patched with something white which can't be something good I'm thinking, and I'm not waiting to see how much larger it can get. I don't need open heart surgery. I don't need an enema even. I just need someone to scrape my throat with a little popsicle stick and give me some antibiotics. 10 min max." Her answer: "I'll call you back."

20 min later, she called me back, and I have an appointment with someone who is not a doctor and might actually be a worker from the ice cream store down the street, but nevertheless, she'll see me and after I sign paperwork saying it's ok for a non-doc to give me antibiotics, I can see her.

What is wrong with this picture? I can call and get a pizza delivered within 15 minutes. I can get a hair appointment from hair magic Paul, a hot commodity, the same day. When I call my dentist, I can get in within 5 minutes, and she's the only one working. My cats can get in to see the vet within 20 minutes of me calling. Why can't I get in to see a doctor? Do I need to start randomly making monthly appointments just in case I am sick? WTF?

What's up, Doc?

My first bitch on the blog concerns doctors. I'm not sure why I continually pick callous medical professionals, but from what I hear, others have the same problem, especially in Texas. Example one: A friend once had a doctor once give her a routine pap smear and, with face buried in her vagina, ask her if she was having safe sex. When she told her, "Yes," the doctor proceeded to ask her if she even knew what safe sex meant. (The woman is 28). Friend replies that she did know, and the doctor tells her that she's going to test for every type of venereal disease since "young women of today can't seem to keep their legs shut." I had a similar experience with a urologist in Texas, who refused to look at my kidney stone on the CT scan, dismissing it as "just another UTI for girls who can't stay virgins until they are married." After that, he forcefully shoved a catheter up me to get a "clean sample," and when I complained about the pain, he said, "Good, that will teach you." All of this happened while the female nurse watched to make sure nothing went awry. Finally, he looks at the CT scan and says, "oh, you really did have a kidney stone."
Of course, I can't completely blame the South...I did have a doctor in Chicago hand me his card and tell me that he was opening a new plastic surgery clinic and could "fix my disaster of a face." This was during a check up for strep throat.
Yesterday, I come in for a physical and ask for bloodwork because my mom was recently diagnosed (by the same doctor) with hypothyroidism, and I wanted to check out my levels since it can be passed on from mother to daughter. Of course, preventative healthcare is virtually unheard of in this country, so the doctor begins to barrage me with questions: "Why do you think that you have a thyroid problem? Were you ever hospitalized for thyroid problems, etc.? " I told her that I didn't know if I had one, but I wanted to check where my levels were and do a basic metabolic panel because I'm exhausted all the time and have started retaining water weight. (Big mistake. Docs hate it when you use "them big medical type words"). The doctor, an approximate size 12 or 14, proceeds to get up and in my face and says, "As far as your weight goes, 60% of all Americans are obese, and Houston is the fattest city, so that should explain exactly why you have a weight problem. Do you even exercise?" Now, I never said I had a weight problem, and I explained to her that I had been dancing in a company up until I broke my foot and that since I can't find a good studio here, I have started training to walk a marathon. She laughs and exclaims that "walking a marathon is worthless. No wonder you can't lose weight. THIN people RUN marathons." She then leaves, and I'm left with a $180 bill for absolutely nothing, and when I quietly but assertively complain, they usher me out as if I was a madwoman. What the hell?