Doctor’s Office The doctor’s office is an interesting place to be if there is no need to be there personally. A while back, my job required me to meet with the office manager of the practice. The experience was a real revelation. Outside of the proverbial waiting we are all used to, the conversations among patients were interesting. Everyone was there for a reason and each had his or her own anomalies or problems or just there for a follow-up or routine checkup. Everyone had a complaint of some sort, the traffic, the illness, or how they caught the illness. There was one person sitting in the corner with a flushed face from fever, a coat wrapped tightly and still chilled, and a tissue covering her nose and mouth. Looking around at mostly healthy people then seeing this one person who needs to be seen as soon as possible; however, people who came in after her were being called, in the meantime, she patiently sat rocking back and forth trying her best to not be conspicuous. The staff kept opening the door, calling a name, and someone other than her rose and disappeared through the door. New patients arrived, signed in, and took a seat. It was beginning to concern me about this poor soul. I presented my face in front of the receptionist who was not as cheering as she should be only to find her on the phone. The only attention I received was the one finger in the air. This was either a signal telling me her conversation would only be one second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year, decade, century, or millennium or giving me a gesture unbecoming a professional. When she finally finished her conversation on the phone, I learned about the casserole in the slow cooker, the aggravation she had with her husband that morning, the miserable traffic on the way to work, and the fight she had with her kids before they left for school. Once I had her attention, I made a request to see if there was anything that could be done to expedite this ill woman’s visit. The response was heartless, uncaring, and cold. The doctor will see her when she is free, period. My blood pressure jumped a few points. My lips pursed, and a certain flush came to my face, which might have expressed my feelings. My only comment was, “I would hate to think if that were you.” I returned to my seat, glanced at the woman, and gave her a smile. She did what she could to muster a grin. My heart sunk. I had the feeling of failure. I let her down trying to take care of her, which I could not. I sat next to her and suggested going to the Emergency Room. She informed me that her doctor instructed her to come to the office. When the office manager called me in, I glanced at the ill woman and then glared at the receptionist, who presented me a look of shock. My visit was about business with a side dressing of proper office etiquette. The manager requested a revisit. About three months later, a new, friendly, and cheerful receptionist greeted me and announced my presence. I may not have been able to help that woman, but maybe helped the patients who frequent that practice.
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 10:58:10 +0000