What do you have to do to get a medical degree around here?

This is the second time this year I've had a great, fun, fabulous cold. Last time it was annoying. This time it's earth-stopping. I sleep for about 16 hours at a time, I wade through my files in a fog, my clients think I'm lying about not being able to work on them, and I find myself staring at the wall, asking, "why... why..."

For the record, Andy thinks I finally got a "guy cold." You know, one of those real bad colds that only guys seem to get. That's why when guys get colds they lay around staring at the wall, asking, "why... why..." He's elated that I can finally relate to his pain. I'm thrilled.

So generally I just live with my germs and wait for them to go away, and I spread them to as few people as possible. This time, against my better judgment, I listened to all those people who were saying, "You'd better go to the doctor!" Why? I hate going to the doctor. All they do is stick something down your throat to make you gag and give you some useless antibiotic that doesn't really work and just weakens your immune system further. But this particular time, instead of starting to feel better, I kept feeling worse and worse as the days went on. So in my weakened mental and physical state, I ventured off to the urgent care clinic. (I'm far too lazy to make an appointment.) This is a true account of what followed:

Me: (pulls into clinic. Goes up to desk.)

Receptionist: How can we help you?

Me: general description of cold. Explanation why I came in.

Receptionist: Is your insurance the same as last time?

Me: No, here's my new card.

Receptionist: (takes card. Scans card. Enters card in computer. Gives card back.) Okay, you can take a seat.

I sit. After a surprisingly short wait, I am called back to the treatment room. A PA takes my general stats, blood pressure, description of what's wrong, etc. At my admission that my blood pressure has been high as of late, she gives me a blood pressure log.

PA: These aren't really that big of a deal, it's just a place to write down your BP. It might or might not help you.

Me: (thinking) Thank you. You are a very not-so-helpful PA. You've just given me a useless piece of paper that is too small for me to keep track of when I could just write down my stats in any old notebook.

PA: (Exiting) The doctor will be in shortly.

I wait. And wait. Not shockingly, this is where they get you. What a tease. Come on back, the doctor's ready for you... whatever! You're just hiding me back here so that all the other poor saps in the waiting room don't know how many of us are back here... waiting... waiting... waiting for you to fix us... waiting... waiting...

Doctor: (interrupts my internal complaint after I've had enough time to translate the Bible into Klingon) Hello, I'm Dr. Inadequate. What brings you here today?

Me: General description of the cold, including when it started, how it started, how it progressed, and why it brought me in when normally I would laugh in the cold germ's face. You know, headache, sore throat, muscle aches, etc etc etc...

Dr: No cough?

Me: Nope, no cough, it's really weird.

Dr: That IS weird.

I'd like to pause here and make an incomplete but very accurate list of things that you a) never want to hear your doctor say, and b) once you hear them say it, you know you are wasting a massive amount of time under a complete fool's care:

1. Whoops, I dropped it.

2. Well, that's probably nothing.

3. I'm not sure, I've never seen that before.

4. Hey! George! Get in here, you've got to see this!

5. You don't mind if we make this a teaching case, do you?

6. Whoa.

7. Well, I'll be right back. Let me just check the manual.

8. Whoops, didn't mean to lose that in there.

9. Junior Mint?

and last, but perhaps the most revealing of all:

10. Yeah, that IS weird.

Anyway, back to it.

Me: Yeah. Weird.

Dr: Well, hop on up here, let's take a look. (inserts her little light in my ears.) Well, these look good. (inserts little light up my nose. What? Who has ever done that before?) And no drainage from your nose, huh?

Me: (thinking) Well. So apparently they don't teach you in med school how to read the nasal cavity, because I've been blowing enough liquid out of there to irrigate Death Valley.

Me: (speaking) Uh...

Excruciatingly long examination follows. Apparently my true condition can only be revealed by listening to every square centimeter of my back through her overpriced stethoscope. It's not important to take my temperature, apparently, because she never did that. But check out the sound of my cerebral spinal fluid, that she did.

Dr: And open up, big ahhh...

Me: Ahh *ck ckahcghhh*

Dr: Did that hurt?

Me: (thinking) What do you think?! You stuck your stupid giant stick down my throat and then you played pinball with my uvula (I just have to brag that I know the name of the little hangy thing) until I choked, and you wonder how come I coughed in your face! You really are that dumb, huh?

Me: (speaking) no.

Dr: Well, I heard some cracklies in your lungs, so I think we'll send you on upstairs for an x-ray. We wouldn't want to miss any pneumonia or anything.

Me: (thinking) Pneumonia? Are you SERIOUS? What on earth are you talking about? I said I have a sore throat and a headache! "Cracklies?" Is that a medical term? Where do you get pneumonia out of this?

Me: (speaking) Uh...

Dr: Well, you mentioned that pain in your chest, that can be serious.

Me: Um, well, my chest doesn't hurt, I just said that I can feel it sort of moving into my bronchiole area, it feels a little clogged. You know, trachea, bronchiole tubes... did you say "lung cracklies?"

Dr: Well, just to be safe, let's get you upstairs for a chest x-ray. (exits)

Me: Um, so, I just... go? Hello? Anyone?

Dr: (peeks back around corner) Yep, just go on up.

Me: Oh, leave my stuff?

Dr: No, take it with you.

Me: Okay, do I need an order or anything?

Dr: Nope, just go on up. (disappears)

After finding my way through the maze that is the back-of-the-doctor's-office (and very nearly ruining a gynecological exam for a poor unsuspecting woman because her room was right under the "exit" sign) I found a staircase and went up. A sign pointed me to "x-ray." At the counter, I ring the bell for service. Yes, there's really a bell. I begin to fill out the slip that says "Fill this out before you do ANYTHING!" as the dulcet tones of "Free Bird" ring in the back, bringing a lab tech to the front.

Tech: And how can we help you?

Me: They sent me up here for a chest x-ray.

Tech: Oh, you don't have to fill that out. That's only for accidents and stuff.

Me: Oh. Well, here, you can throw this away.

Tech: Do you have an order?

Me: No, they told me to just come up.

Tech: (glares.)

Me: Uh...

Tech: Well, that's fine.

second tech comes in from outside carrying a sling tote and a Nalgene bottle.

Tech2: Hey.

Tech: Hey. Nice nap?

Tech2: Yeah.

Tech: Wasn't your car cold?

Tech2: No, it wasn't real- (hesitates. Looks at me. Murmurs to tech) Is this one of hhmmshhmmm vrrrrgrrrb?

Tech: (meaningful glance my way) yep.

Tech2: Hm.

Tech: So is your insurance still Principal Financial?

Me: No, I told them downstairs it's United.

Tech: Are you sure?

Me: Yes.

Tech: Well, we have here Principal Financial.

Me: Well, I gave her the card...

Tech: Well, here is what we have. (holds up paper that has my info on it, points to the offending lines, and intones) Prin-ci-pal Fi-NAN-cial.

Me: Uh...

Tech: Did you give her the card?

Me: Yes.

Tech: Did she scan it?

Me: Yes.

Tech: Oh.

Tech2: Uh-huh.

Me: Uh...

Tech: Well, check that when you go downstairs.

Me: Okay.

Tech: Okay, come this way. (walks me to the back, points into a room.) take off your bra and T shirt, no necklaces. Gown opens in the back, come out when you're done. (pulls curtain shut behind me.)

Me: Uh...

I remove my apparently excessive garments and find my way into a gown, then wander out into the hall. The tech meets me in the hall.

Me: (attempting humor) good thing it's warmer up here.

Tech: Oh, really? I thought it was cold.

Me: Uh...

Tech: In here. (notices me glancing at examination table) No, we're standing. Here. (She arranges me into a stance that can only be compared to a pat down outside a police officer's car. I am holding onto bars on the backside of a giant hunk of metal that apparently reflects the x-rays. As she's tying a lead belt around my waist, she asks) no chance you're pregnant?

Me: No. That would be a nice side effect.

Tech: side effect of what?

Me: Oh, I just have a cold. That would be great to add pregnancy onto it.

Tech: Well, you can't get pregnant from a cold.

Me: Uh...

Tech: Stand still. Deep breath. Hold your breath. (flash.) Breathe. (Rearranges me on giant metal hunk.) Stand Still. Deep breath. Hold your breath. (flash) Now, turn to the side and put your hands on your head.

Me: (thinking) See? I told you this was just like a police exam.

Me: (speaking) Like this?

Tech: Yes. Stand still. Deep breath. Hold your breath.

Me: Wait...

Tech: Did that hurt?

Me: No, that deep breath just turned into a yawn.

Tech: Oh. Stand still. Deep breath. Hold your breath. (flash.) Get dressed.

Me: Right here?

Tech: I'll meet you outside.

I trudge off to my curtained area, where I redress and gather my things. I am momentarily flummoxed as I casually toss my gown into the (open air) bin marked, "dirty gowns ONLY", but then on my way out, I notice that in the "dirty lab coats ONLY" bin (also open air) there is a gown laying on top. Oh, the horror, what if I put my gown in the wrong bin and Frankentech gets mad at me? I reach for the misplaced gown on top of the lab coats, believing it to be my misplaced gown, and I uncover yet another gown, and another. No lab coats in sight. This is disturbing, because apparently this means doctors can't read the signs telling them where to put their lab coats, and ew, I've just touched somebody ELSE'S dirty gown. I go back outside.

Tech: Here's your order. Check on that insurance downstairs.

Me: Okay.

Tech: (disappears)

I snake my way through yet another back-of-doctor's-office maze, stealing some hand sanitizer on the way. I find the stairs, wait in line again, and hand the receptionist my order.

Me: They also told me to check on that insurance card, they said upstairs it was still my old one.

Receptionist: It shouldn't. I've got Principal Financial right here.

Me: Well, now it's United, remember, I gave you my new card...

Receptionist: Oh, yes, I just didn't delete your old insurance. You mean you're no longer with Principal?

Me: (thinking) I thank God you are not in charge of my medical care.

Me: (speaking) Nope, that's why I said I don't have the same insurance any more.

Receptionist: Well, I'll delete it. Have a seat.

I take a seat. Apparently they believe that they have fooled me with enough with my first brief "take a seat" experience into thinking that this is a well-organized clinic. They abandon all pretense. I wait. I write five thank-you notes. I answer all my email. I begin translating my Klingon translation into a Jedi-friendly Use The Force version of the New Testament. I am contemplating a "Words of Yoda in red" variation when I am told to come back to the treatment room. Yeah, right, like I'm going to fall for that again!

I go back to the treatment room. I wait. Not surprisingly, I wait. I start to examine the medical certificates on the walls, wondering if my doctor is certified from the University of Tahiti. Or Bali. Or Pongo-Pongo. She walks in and catches me with my eyebrow raised.

Dr: Well, your test was fine and your x-rays looked great.

Me: (thinking) Why am I not surprised?

Me: (speaking) Okay.

Dr: So, you must just have some weird virus.

Me: (thinking) Some weird virus? Is that the technical term?

Me: (speaking) Okay.

Dr: So, if after, like, two weeks you still feel like crap, just come back in.

Me: (thinking) Feel like crap? Is that the technical term?

Me: (speaking) Okay.

Dr: So, have a good day.

Me: Great. So, how did you enjoy med school in the Bahamas?

So here I am. I've been diagnosed. I have some weird virus. I'm so relieved. Now all I need to do is get the medicine for that and I'll be all set. Oh, and I'd like to add to my list up above:

11. Must be some weird virus.

I'm going to bed, doctors suck.