I had a doctors appointment last week. I just needed to get a refill on some medication I’m taking because I’m old. I’ve been taking these meds for years and my appointments never last longer than about five to ten minutes.
But this time there was an intern.
So, after a half hour of me re-living my entire medical history (including sexual interactions, possible illnesses, trips to the emergency room, and what I do to relax and get rid of stress), he suggested a new medication. I said no. Then he asked if I’d be willing to try something else. I said no. He kept asking all the same questions and making the same suggestions that my doctor asked me years ago when I started taking these meds. And I kept saying no.
I’ve been going to see this doctor since I found out I was pregnant ten years ago. She knows me well enough to know that I’ve done my research before walking into her office. I ask for something, she gives me her honest opinion and then she gives me what I want (as long as she agrees with my decisions). She’s a no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point doctor and I like her.
So when an intern comes in and messes up my schedule, my Irritability Syndrome kicks in again.
After almost 45 minutes of answering questions and rehashing everything I’ve gone through medically (as well as missing a meeting), I finally looked at this intern and gently said, “listen, I have a history of depression, heart problems, and cancer on both sides of my family. I don’t have any of that yet though.
Right now, there’s nothing seriously wrong with me. I’ve gained weight in the last few years because I had a baby, I’m not as active as I used to be, and a side effect of these meds is a little weight gain. I cough because I have the odd cigarette and I live in a dry climate. I don’t drink or do drugs, my sex life is non-existent, and I’ve never contemplated suicide. I don’t have time to be depressed, my heart is working just fine, and I have no strange looking moles or pains. Other than getting older, I’m good.
I’m just trying to enjoy life before I get bad news – which I’m sure is eventually inevitable. So, I’d really like it if you could just refill my prescription and then I’ll be on my merry way for another year.”
My doctor, who stood off to the side, smirked knowingly at me and nodded.
The intern seemed taken aback for a moment, looked to my doctor for reassurance (she just shrugged), and then he clicked away on the computer before turning to me and replying, “your prescription is refilled for another year.”
“Great!” I stood up happily. “Good luck with your internship and have a wonderful day!”
I smiled at my doctor and bounced out the door with a smile.