St. Elsewhere
Remember these people? It's the cast of St. Elsewhere. Sometimes I think I'd be better off trusting my health care to them. Ah yes...another week, another visit to Stroger Hospital.
Let's recap past events. Original appointment with neurologist September 2013. Took three months to get that. He sets up appointment for Brain MRI for December 20, 2013. They rescheduled it for January 6, 2014, without telling me.
The MRI is done and l was told by the neurologist to walk-in during his clinic hours to talk about the results. His clinic hours are 9:30-noon on Monday and Wednesday. I went to Stroger on Monday and here's what occurred.
I find neurology. The receptionist says walk-ins sign the clipboard and wait. No problem, I have plenty of time.
I wait. People get called. I wait. More people are called. I wait a little more and notice that the room has pretty much emptied out. I go look at the clipboard and see all the names above and below mine are scratched out. Beside my name it says "can't read writing."
I wait for the nurse, show her the paper and ask why I wasn't called? She says she called me but I must not have heard. I asked how could she call me if she couldn't read my name? She stammered.
I said to her, "what's my name?" ummmmmmmm...."Cmon..What's my name?" I felt like Muhammad Ali beating the shit out of Floyd Patterson because he kept calling him Cassius Clay. I just don't like getting lied to like that!
Ok, so she didn't call my name but let's see the doctor. Sorry sir, but you need an appointment. I had cards from the neurologist, scheduling and radiology telling me I should do a walk-in but it wasn't good enough for her. She runs off to talk to the doctor.
When she returns, she hands me a prescription form that says I should come back on Wednesday, January 22 at 9am and the doctor will fit you in and go over everything at that time.
I'm actually ok with that but what I really need is a copy of the report from the MRI, so I can fax it to the Disability people in Springfield. When I asked her how to get it, it drove her over the edge. Apparently that crossed the line marking what her job required her to do.
She ran off for it a bit and came back with another form. "Go home, call this number and they'll tell you the procedure." So that's what I did.
What do I get...the records department at Stroger Hospital. It was on the same floor as neurology, literally 30 seconds away. Why the fuck couldn't that (fill in a very nasty word and then kick it up a few notches) just have sent me there in the first place?
So yesterday I dragged my ass back to the hospital. I went to the records window, filled out a release form, got two pages and they even waived the $5 fee. Winner, Winner Chicken Fucking Dinner!!!
At least the report is now in Springfield and hopefully that's the final piece that they need to make a decision on my claim. That's what they said...we'll see.
I'm also keeping the neurology appointment next week. Mostly because my high school biology class didn't give me the skills to decipher what was written on the report. It basically said my name, brain and yada, yada, yada! Yeah...the report yadad me.
Remember the final episode of St. Elsewhere? The whole series was a dream of an autistic boy named Tommy. I'm having some of those same dreams but I wake up screaming. It's more of a nightmare.