Mostly Happy And Uplifting
“Who are these people, and where are Dr. McCallum and Kelly Mercer?”, I kept wondering as I once again stood at the receptionist window at the office of my primary care physician.
Instead of the bustling crowd of cheerful patients, chatting with each other and being greeted by the friendly, personable doctors, nurse practitioners, and office staff, there were what looked like the same 2, glum looking people, sprawled on the waiting room furniture, who were there 2 weeks ago.
The waiting room was dingy and messy. It was as if no one was doing any cleaning. The receptionist room had a few folders strewn about, and most of the file cabinets, printers, and other office equipment was gone. I didn’t see, or hear, any patients, doctors, or nurses coming and going to the examination rooms. It seemed odd, and felt a bit disquieting.
Some of you may recall the bizarre encounter I wrote about the last time I went there for an appointment with the new nurse practitioner that was assigned to me after Dr. McCallum moved from her Court Street offices, to her new location on California Street.
During that visit, I never got past the receptionist who began behaving strangely when I explained that I had lost my Medicare card, but it would be quite easy to verify at the Medicare website. I was astonished at her stubborn and belligerent attitude. She insisted that my appointment could not proceed unless I produced a Medicare card that she could copy.
Later that week, I got on the MacBook and applied for a replacement card. It arrived in Monday’s mail. I returned to the doctors office on Tuesday morning, card in hand, with the intention of scheduling an appointment.
At the office, I encountered the same person as last time. I think she may be mentally disabled, or psychopathic. She informed me that Stephanie, the nurse practitioner assigned to me, was discharging me as a patient, and there would be no appointment.
I asked to speak to Dr. McCallum, but the disturbed receptionist said the doctor was with a patient. I said I would wait. She said she would call the police if I did.
I was flabbergasted, and out of ways to attempt communicating with this foolish, obstinate, thing that was posing as a receptionist, so I left and went to the library.
There I found a couple of new books I haven’t read, yet. That restored my equilibrium and cheerful manner. I enjoy finding new reading material.
There were nice pictures to be taken around town, and back at the Treehouse, so I directed my energy in a pleasant and rewarding way. I guess I must proceed with finding a new PCP, so the pharmacist can fill my prescription for the medication I need to stay relatively pain free.
I wonder if Dr. McCallum is okay?
Light Traffic On The Bridge