Last Friday, I was beyond ready to see my GP. The day before, I’d taken my daughter for allergy testing, which was so traumatic for the both of us that I indulged myself with a small order of fries. I realized at the time that what I was doing was akin to “treating” myself to overindulgence in alcohol, as my younger self was wont to do, and the outcome was every bit as pleasant: I awoke in the middle of the night that night in excruciating pain, and that pain didn’t loosen its grip on me until the following Tuesday. (So, yesterday.) Because apparently all I have to do is eat food that has touched something that touched gluten to react. Sheesh.
Friday morning, I got up, knocked out my freelancing (fwoosh), ate, dressed, fed me and my sick little boy (whoosh) and buzzed on down to the doctor’s office, arriving a mere 3 minutes late (zoom). Only to be told that I had no appointment that day. My appointment was Monday. I had two confirmation emails stating that I was right and they were wrong, but whatevs. Could I come back Monday, when they had me down?
No, I couldn’t. I had extra work scheduled on Monday — it’s one of the reasons I opted for the Friday appointment in the first place. Nor could I come Wednesday at 9, or Thursday at all (Thursdays are my insanely busy days, and like Monday, I was also covering for a coworker). And that was it. They had no other openings in the coming weeks. They tried instead to get me in with one of the nurses. Who I like, don’t get me wrong, and I’ll gladly see if I have a sinus infection or something. But this is a bit bigger than that. So no, I’ll pass.
I was livid by the time I got home. What the hell good does it do to make an appointment if they refuse to honor it? I love my doctor, and his nurses, but this was pretty much my breaking point. I’ll just find a new GP.
But that doesn’t help right now; I’m not breaking in a new GP on this. I decided instead to skip straight to the dietitian. I spent an hour and a half researching local offices, reading reviews, and then confirming coverage with my insurance…only to be told they won’t see me without a doctor’s recommendation.
“But I can’t get in to see my doctor,” I told the lady, after she’d put me on hold for 10 minutes with some of the worst hold music I’ve been stuck with in my life. “He diagnosed me with idiopathic chronic constipation back in April; does that help?”
More hold music. A few minutes later, I hung up in disgust.
So. Now I don’t have a GP or a viable dietitian option. And I’m still hungry.
I’ll sort it out. I always do. It just would have been so much easier if I’d had medical help.
But no more fries for me. They are simply not worth it.