AngiePen (angiepen) wrote,

Medical Update

No bloody details this time, so it should be safe. :)

Remember the kerfuffle with my regular doctor on the sixth floor over which ENT specialist I'd go see?  Well, Jim called her back the next day and she said she'd made me an appointment with a doctor in the right plan who wasn't too far away.  She said that he was triple-booked so he might not be able to see me right away, but that I had an appointment on Tuesday afternoon.  That's today.  Cool.  So, a really nice co-worker of Jim's brought him home a bit before my appointment time, picked me up, and drove us out to this doctor's office.  He drops us off, we thank him profusely.

There are a couple of buildings here and of course we go in the wrong one.  And of course there's someone ahead of us at the receptionist's desk, and of course the receptionist is on the phone with someone whom I don't think has ever been to a doctor before.  So it's a few minutes before my turn.  I get up there, give her my name and my doctor's name, and she says "Oh, that's the other building," and gives us directions -- out, left, green door on right, elevator, third floor.  OK, fine.  Good directions, find the new place, no problem.

Until I give the new receptionist my name and the name of my doctor.  She bips around on her computer, then asks me how to spell my last name.  We spell our last name.  (Jim's with me and being very helpful.)  Receptionist taps and frowns and taps and frowns, then looks up at me with this puzzled expression.  I'm not in her computer.  There's no record of my having an appointment.  Umm, great.  She asks us to wait a bit while she checks and we go sit down.

Jim is seething.  He wasn't terribly impressed with Dr. Whatshername to begin with, was annoyed with the runaround, and is now ready to be incredibly pissed off if this doesn't straighten itself out.

We're called back up and talk to Dr. Mamood's nurse.  Tell her the story, give her the name of my doctor at Memorial, whose name I can never remember when I'm sitting here at the computer (I think it's one of those Suppressed-Traumatic-Memory things :P ) and the whole nine yards.  We go sit down again.  Jim's even more pissed off, muttering and hunting up phone numbers so he can vent his opinion on someone who actually deserves it, which no one in this office does.

Nurse comes back and calls us up again a few minutes later.  She's talked to the doctor.  He's never heard of me, or of my Memorial doctor.  [scowl]  There's no sign that Dr. Whatshername ever talked to anyone.  Maybe she dialed the wrong number and the person who answered decided to play Crank Call in reverse, I don't know, but none of these people have a clue who I am.  We're finally told that it's OK, he'll see me anyway.  Profuse thanks.  We go sit down.

Jim's still annoyed but at least it looks like it's going to turn out OK.  It's kind of good and bad, too, that Dr. Mamood's pretty clearly not triple-booked, unless his other patients are invisible.  There are only two people besides us in the waiting area, which is fairly largish, and Dr. Mamood's not the only doctor there.  At least he has time to see me, which is good, but it's another sign that Dr. Whatshername was smoking something entertaining on Friday.  Whatever.

Few minutes later, nurse calls us in.  Shows us into a little room where the only place for Jim to sit would've been this chair that looks like it escaped from a dentist's office.  I tell Jim I'll be fine alone and he retreats.  Nurse takes all my vitals except for my BP, which is weird since that's sort of what started all this, but hey, she's the nurse.  She goes away and I read for a bit, pinching a few kleenix as needed; there's a nifty Biohazard container in the office, so I put my used kleenixes in there.  [grin]

Dr. Mamood comes in.  He's a nice guy, smiles even though I just sort of dropped in on him.  He asks what's going on and I give him an edited version of the story -- nosebleeds, three hospitals, two ambulances, posterior bleed, Dr. Whatshername, nose tampon, please remove.  I end up in the runaway dentist's chair.  He gets a syringe and lets out the air they pumped into it in the ER, then starts pulling it out.  It didn't quite hurt, quite, but it was... let's say it was very distressing.  :P  I coughed a few times while it came out, since that was the only thing I could think of that might help.  That sounds really stupid.  :/  You know how you get these weird reflexes sometimes, like if you go too far in your ear with a q-tip your throat tickles and you cough?  (Well, it happens to me.)  Or when someone sticks you with a needle, maybe you suck in some air...?  It doesn't help, any more than coughing helps my ear, but it just seems like the thing to do at the time.  [cough]  Anyway, whatever.

I'm not even going to describe what this thing looked like when he took it out.  [cringe]  Suffice to say that there wasn't any blood, but it still managed to be pretty much the top number-one grossest thing I've ever layed my eyes on, bar none.  Really.  And that's all I'll say about that, lucky you.

So, he takes a look in my nose, doesn't seem to see anything more interesting than anyone else saw.  Asks me about my blood pressure.  Yep, high BP, but not before Monday.  Asks me what it is today.  I say I don't know.  He calls nurse back in to take it.  Today I'm 135/73.  Damn weird -- I've never seen one before where one number was high and the other low; they've always varied together.  Guess I'm special.

I get some instructions for the next six weeks -- don't blow your nose, keep your head above your heart, avoid strain -- and tells me what to do if I get another nosebleed.  I explain that I'm an old pro at this, and we're good.  He gave me a box of kleenix to take home.  I got one from Memorial too, so I'm set for kleenix for a while.  Coolness.

And that's it, so far as the Nosebleed Week from Hell goes.  I have an appointment to see Dr. Leidl next week so he can check my BP again and decide which of the meds I should stay on, like forever I guess, and give me whatever other advice he feels like giving.  I'm happy so long as I don't spring any more leaks.

But if I do, well, I'm an old pro at this.  I have my kleenix and my plastic bowl and a phone pre-programmed for 911.  And heck, that Dr. Hunt at the Memorial ER was pretty cute....  ;)
Tags: personal

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