I'm Thinking of Taking Up Smoking

I don't like going to the doctor. I really don't like going to the doctor. As a child, I didn't like going because I hated throat cultures. And when you hate throat cultures, it seems that you constantly have to get them.

But even now, as an adult, I still don't like going to the doctor. And it has nothing at all to do with having to get the rather rare throat culture these days. The actual reason is that I can't stand the feeling of not being understood -- or not listened to -- which very often results in the "not being understood" outcome.

On Saturday I went to an urgent care clinic. And really, the frustrating experience began a little earlier than did my talks with the doctor. So I'll back up.

In the waiting room, things are bleak at urgent care. Everyone looks slumped, sloppy, pale, and pretty near death. I was no exception. There are some expectations at these facilities too. No one is to do a doubletake at your disheveled appearance or at your uneven gait. Everyone there knows you don't feel good, and they don't particularly care. People who sit in these drab and dreary waiting rooms leave each other alone with the unspoken understanding, "We all feel like crap, so let's not make direct eye contact, ok?"

The college kid who entered in his pajamas, sporting a rather large goofy grin, didn't get it though. He takes his number, says goodbye to the father who's dropped him off, and sits next to me, leaving only one open seat between us in a nearly empty waiting room. (Everyone knows that two open seats between sickly strangers in waiting rooms is the acceptable standard that we all live comfortably by.)

Anyway, I overlook his misstep and continue to hack, blow my nose, and suck on my Halls kiwi-apple flavored cough drops. After some time, he does the following:

Goofy pajama wearing college kid: "So uhhhhh.... are you eleven?"

Me: (turning my head to look at him... which hurts, by the way) "I'm sorry.... What?"

GPWCK: "Are you eleven?" (motions up to the "take a number sign" and smirks)

Me: "Yes." (I look away quickly.)

A few minutes pass.

GPWCK: "So uhhhh... do you come here often?"
Me: (glaring and stunned into a paralyzed silence) "You've GOT to be kidding."

I'm sorry GPWCK. I wasn't really nice, and Jim says that you were most likely just trying to pass the time and be friendly. Anyway, I apologize for my rudeness.

Let's fast forward to the triage room where the nurse takes your vitals and information.

This lady, who's only job is to record that I'm still breathing, makes fun of my last name as if she's the first clever one to do so. "Hoooooodenpyle? Oh my gosh! That's a mouthful. I think that will be so funny when you have a baby and people call it Baby Hoooooooodenpyle! Ohhhh! That's hysterical! And this is your married name? And you still chose to marry the guy?"

Stay with me. We're jumping forward about an hour when I'm speaking to the doctor.

I tell my story of the past few days - a very complete and thorough outline of the events that have transpired during this sickness. He asks me for the first time, "Do you smoke?" The other eight times that he asks me this same question are a little different. It has a little twist on it each time. "You said you smoke?" / "You don't smoke, really?" / "And you're a non-smoker?" / "And you say you don't smoke?"

NO, MAN. I DON'T SMOKE. I NEVER HAVE, YOU IDIOT.

Other highlights of his extraordinary listening ability:

Doc: "Ohhh... so this amoxicillin that you're currently on, it must've been something that your regular doctor called in for you without an examination."
Me: "Yes." (I said this to him five minutes earlier.)


Doc: "Have you had problems with asthma before?"
Me: "Yes. As a child. I do not have any problems with it now, though, unless I exercise heavily."
Doc: "Do you have an inhaler?"
Me: "Yes, but it's several years old. And I don't have reason to use it daily."
Doc: (looking at my online chart from my regular doctor, wrinkling his nose in confusion) "I don't see that you're using an inhaler on your chart."
Me: "That's because I DON'T use an inhaler now. I don't have asthma symptoms these days unless I exercise heavily. I have an inhaler at home, but it's old. I don't use it. I had severe asthma only as a child."
Doc: (listening to my deep breaths) "You're WHEEZING?! Did you know this? You're not a smoker?"

We'll fast forward through the chest xray and breathing treatment. Let's press on to the lab where they are drawing blood now.

Nurse: "Hooooodenpyle? Is that how you say it? Wow! Well, I changed names when I married, but, for me, my last name actually improved."

I did not respond.