Please bookmark the correct page at http://suzannadanna.net/ Princess of Irony

He mimed holding up a pillow to his little head.

Issue Date: Thursday, Jul. 12, 2007

Holy spreadable cheese. I am so glad that I didn’t come back to the office on Tuesday. I was having such a fit, and it just was not ladylike at all.

Long story short? That Ear Nose Throat guy? Is... a total douche.

Long story long. You sure you wanna push that button mister? Fine, suit yourself. Long story long.

Deep Breath... annnnnnnnnnd, here we go.

Alright. To catch some of you up to speed, I have been snoring ... LOUDLY for a few months now. I was worried that it had something to do with my surgeries
back at the end of March when they intubated me (good times... good times). So I decided to get a referral to an Ear Nose Throat guy. Hilarity ensued.

Well, not so much as hilarity as annoyance (scroll down to the end).

If you didn’t follow the links above it is basically like this. Went to see ENT guy, he scoped my sinus passages and my throat, found Hoffa and decided to put me on three medications and asked me to come back in two weeks. I went, was still snoring, the ENT guy didn’t know why I was there. As he was entering the office, “So, what seems to be the problem today?” I was totally caught off guard. “Um, you asked me to take two weeks worth of medication and then come back and see you. Two weeks worth of three different medications.” “Ah, I see.” And then he gave me a bucket full of one hundred dollar bills, kissed me on the mouth and said that I was the next contestant on TLC’s What Not to Wear!

Not really. He asked me some benign questions. Basically the same ones he asked me the first time I visited his stellar offices. I dutifully answered. He reverse tweezed my nostrils, found them blocked (shocker) and changed up one of the medications. “I would like for you to get a CT scan as soon as you can and then come back and see me with the results.” I got the CT scan last Friday... they made me take out my new piercing (suck)... and I got the films like he asked. I went back to see him on Tuesday and this is where we pick up the story.

When I went in on Tuesday I dutifully signed in, paid my co-pay* and sat down to wait for 45 minutes to see the ENT guy. When they took me back into the offices, I was put in a different room this time and waited another 15 minutes for him to show up. He walked in and brightly said, “So, what seems to be the problem today?”

*More on this later.

in my head: “Do you NOT read my file sir? Ever? I mean seriously. I have taken off a total of almost 9 hours from work to meet with you. I have seen you (this would be my third) three times in almost as many weeks. You have medicated me up the ass. Well, not literally up the ass. But you have medicated me with not one but two decongestants, an antibiotic and a nasal spray, you have asked me to go get a CT scan, which was another few hours out of work, not to mention the $53 fee for the scan and because you are a Specialist you demand fifty (FIFTY!... $50!) freaking dollars every time I come into your office. So let’s see, that is about 11 hours of missed work, five total medications at somewhere close to a hundred bucks, a fifty-three dollar CT scan and one hundred and fifty dollars in co-pays... and you want to know ‘what seems to be the problem!?’”

outloud: “You asked me to get a CT scan. I did. The films are just to your left.”

Because, as we all know, I am a big pussy.

He looked through the films, dropping them, smearing them with his little greasy fingers, and used a ballpoint pen to point to stuff when he got them stuck up in that little lighted box thingy. He went through each slide and what did he find? Oh, gee... I am going to go out on a limb and say, deviated septum, polyps, and a maxillary sinus cyst. DING DING DING! You are our new winner! You receive this great prize!....

ENT: So, did you get a report?
self: YOU have the report. You asked me to bring the films and I did... you said a report would be faxed to you. The report is in my file. [barely containing myself at this point]

He looked surprised to see my file at his right hand... my file that he brought into the 1970’s shag carpeted interoffice with him.

ENT: [flipping through the file]... um hmm... um hmm.... Ah, yes, we have the report.
self: ... [fairly sure I was gritting my teeth hard enough to bite my own face]
ENT: [reading the file]... hmm... So, yes... the polyp, the deviated septum and the maxillary sinus cyst.
self: ... [plotting his death]
ENT: So, there are several things we could do here. And you are sure you don’t need a sleep study?
self: Yes, I am sure. I do not have sleep apnea. As we went over before, and twice today I am familiar with what sleep apnea is. I do NOT need a CPAP machine, I do not stop breathing when I am asleep. I am just snoring. Loudly. Like a trucker.
ENT: Well, we could install two stints into your soft pallet to make it more rigid, therefore helping the snoring...
self: [eyebrows lifted in a “Seriously?” type fashion]
ENT: But that has not been tested long term, so we probably wouldn’t want to do that.
self: [do NOT roll your eyes, do NOT roll your eyes]
ENT: There was also this surgery where they cut two trenches into your soft pallet... that didn’t really catch on except for like a year or two...
self: So, not too popular, that one, aye?
ENT: No. I could do one surgery, in office, where I cut part of your soft pallet away along with your uvula.
self: Nooooooo. [totally thinking “You are not coming anywhere near me with a scalpel mister.”]

He talked for a while longer about my other “options”. I totally wasn’t listening, just trying to will the building to burst into flames. When I finally looked over at my purse and stood up from the chair I think he got a bit panicky that I wouldn’t come back so he couldn’t rape me for another $50 and ask me, “So what seems to be the problem?” next week. So he was grasping at straws and imparted this nugget of wisdom.

Hold onto your hats because it is awesome.

ENT: Have you ever thought of readjusting your pillow?
self: [::blink::] My pillow?

He mimed holding up a pillow to his little head.

ENT: Yes, your pillow, have you ever thought of readjusting it so your head can be in a more comfortable position and then maybe you will not snore?

The screaming inside my head was so loud y’all.

self: [::deep breath::] Yes, actually I have readjusted my pillow quite often...
ENT: Or, you know... you could just lose some weight.
self: Hey! THANKS! [biiiig smile]

I gathered up my films, picked up my purse and walked out on him while he was still talking. The receptionist asked me on my way past her if I needed to schedule another appointment. I kept walking. I opened the door to the hall and walked out. Both of them calling after me “Missus [last name]?”

I walked outside, got into Samantha, started the engine, took several deep slow breaths and then messaged Mister. When he called I replayed what had happened and he was all, “You need to report this guy! We need to tell Dr. Eduardo! Holy shit, that guy is insane! I knew I didn’t like him for a reason!”

I figured if I never reported the guy who used me as his own personal scab** then I probably won’t report this asshole.

**Yeah, uh... sorry.

I am not upset that he had me on so many medications; I am not even all that pissed that he wanted me to get a CT scan. I am however (comma) quite taken aback that he was not more in tune with his patients and their needs. I am upset that I busted my ass to make up hours I would miss from work just to be there (early) for the appointments that I scheduled with his precious time. I am upset that I would have to wait an hour or more to see him. I am upset that he pointed out various different abnormalities in my sinuses and wasn’t (EVER) sure in his answer about what would be the best course of action. He would just limp dick throw medications at me and suggest stuff that sounded ridiculous. If HE’s the specialist, then why couldn’t he be more...

I don’t know.

The office looked like something out of the Jetson’s cartoon. He had that old ass equipment. He had other people do the hard work (CT scan) and never knew why I, his “patient”, was there in the first place. I’m sure he has a lot of patients, but would it kill a guy to just flip the chart open and go, “Ah, yes... this is Susan, she claims to be bothered by the fact that she is ‘snoring like a trucker’... I have already put her on X, Y, Z medications, then switched her to A and ordered a CT scan for her last week. Here is the report. I am interested in my patients. I love people who wait an hour to see me and pay me fifty dollars for 10 minutes of my time.”

Would that be too much to ask?

In the mean time, Mister has started sleeping with ear plugs firmly nestled into his perfect man-ears and we are back to sleeping in the same bed. Rock.

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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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