I’ve had a cough for a few weeks, as long as I keep moving and active, the cough is nowhere to be found. The minute that I sit down and rest, lay down and sleep, the beast awakens and I feel like I should ask for last rights… It’s annoying for certain and since I have already had the dreaded C…, I am not concerned in that regard but I did get tired of coughing, so I went online to set up an appointment with my doctor.
I am thankful that I have this online communication channel set up with my General practitioner that I have never met, my cardiologist that I have had 6 appointment’s with since moving here 5 years ago and have met once and my Orthopedic Doctor, that I’ve never met either, but it isn’t important.
If you have read one of my past posts “What brings you here today” you will remember that doctor/patient interaction is quickly becoming a thing of the past and now you are more like to see a nurse practitioner which is fine I guess, but somehow between the last medical observation I posted, I’ve lost contact with my Orthopedic doctor Nurse Practitioner. I now have to communicate with the nurse practitioner’s assistant. I’ve never met her but her keyboard and Google calendar invite skills are exceptional but that’s not the point of this blog, hang on…
The nurse who is the assistant to the nurse practitioner (who I have met) and is the assistant to the Orthopedic Doctor arranged to get me on the MRI list, although she did inform me during our conversation that it would probably be ten weeks or more to get the MRI done because as she put it, “they are way backed up and they are short of MRI techs so you might have to just deal with the pain.”
Now I am no wuss, my idol is John Wayne, and I have seen so many of his movies so many times that I can easily figure out how to patch some of my own minor flesh wounds and plug a bullet hole with a spiffy red bandana that I happen to have tied around my neck. In other words, I am comfortable with “dealing with the pain”. Just shoot it too me straight pilgrim, just give me a swig of whiskey and a leather strap to bite down on and I’m good. Well, enough about my unbelievably high pain threshold and how incredibly tough I am, that’s not the point of this blog…
Apparently, the MRI tech strike or labor shortage ended not long after her conversation with me in regards to “dealing with the pain” because I got a call from the fine place that does the MRI and they wanted to know “when” I’d like to schedule my MRI. I told them that I wasn’t really particular about the date and time just as long as there would actually be a tech there to conduct the Magnetic Resonating Imaging (got tired of typing MRI) and that I was just happy that the strike or Tech shortage was over. Just as a note of solidarity, I will never ever cross the IBMRI (International Brotherhood of Magnetic Resonating Imaging union) picket line, I believe that’s how they got Jimmy Hoffa. Those MRI folks don’t play. Trust me, I am getting to the point.
I slowly ease up to the place where you get your MRI and I see there is no sign of danger from angry strikers calling me a SCAB patient or something awful like that but I am a little leery that my big ole Ford F-150 is now the only car in the lot. My mind is racing and I’m just a wee bit nervous so I fall back on WWJWD (what would John Wayne do) so, I square my shoulder (the good one), fix my chin parallel to the ground and I stride into that office like it’s the High Noon Saloon. I resist the urge to ask for Ms. Kitty and decide it’s best to just let them know I am here for and MRI.
After I waited for a just a few minutes, out pops the MRI guy “Bob”. Now, Bob is happy as a lark and I can only assume it’s because the recent very tense MRI strike is over and everyone, especially Bob, are happy to be back to work. Well, Bob dispenses with the small talk and doesn’t even ask me why I’m there. His lack of curiosity catches me off guard a little but I am pretty quick on my feet so I initiate the “chit chat”, (another one of my specialties). “So, you’re gonna take the picture of my shoulder?”, Bob’s gift for gab comes bubbling to the surface, “Yep”. I’m almost to the point of the story…
After being inside the “tube” and holding perfectly still, 30 long minutes to be exact, I was admonished just once from Bob for not staying perfectly still of which I shrugged off like John Wayne would have done. Once I was out of the tube, I put all my bling back on and got myself ready to face the world again and that is when it happened. This is point in the story where you sit up a little and bite your lower lip…Bob smiled, handed me a CD and said “give this to your doctor.”
“I appreciate this Bob, but I use Spotify to get my fill of Neil Young” ….
“It’s your MRI” …
Ok, there are several points to be made here but some of the most glaring are; The technology of transmitting images via digital format has miraculously skipped over the medical field. I mean, do I get any compensation for courier services because I hear that Amazon drivers are getting 37 bucks an hour and Walgreens can crank out damn good prints in less than an hour.
Now… If you are keeping up, comes the point of the story. As far as the nasty cough I’ve had for two weeks, I’ve been informed that because I have a cough, I am not allowed to see the doctor in person, nor the nurse practitioner, nor the assistant to the nurse practitioner. You see, the good folks at “Mercy” as a safety precaution, will set up a video conference to determine a cure for my cough.
This only leads me to conclude that the eye popping jump on the scale as you enter the hallowed chambers of medical excellency, the blood pressure checks and the cold stethoscope against my back followed by, “breathe in, breathe out” routine I have been a willing participant in for the last 58 years has been complete Bull Shit. I wonder…WWJWD?