Going to the doctor's office is bad for my health. I went to my 8:45 a.m. appointment Wednesday morning, only to find that the office was closed until 9. As I sat on the cold cement waiting for the doors to open, I could feel my cold worsen, my blood pressure rise and a severe case of spontaneous dental hydroplosion develop.
I know other people have problems with the doctor, but mine have always been exceptional. Up until this summer, I had a medical condition where I had to receive monthly injections of bicillin. And every month I became more and more disgusted with the process.
Often these visits would leave me feeling paranoid. Since I had been receiving these injections since I was 8 years old, I was still considered a pediatrics patient at 20. No one can feel comfortable in those barely there gowns, but it's even worse when a Barney the dinosaur doll is watching the whole process and staring at you with that smug smile.
Sometimes I would leave the office feeling depressed. It really wasn't my fault that I couldn't fit my 5'9\ frame on the 4' table, but I really felt bad about crushing their tiny chairs. And the Boo-Boo Bunny they gave me to hold while getting the shot doesn't really have the same effect after 12 years. I didn't even get a sucker at the end, although the Barbie Band-Aid did make me feel better.
I thought it would get better when I started college. I still had to get the injections, but at least I would be using an adult-size table, and there wouldn't be any peeping Barneys around.
And it was better, until I contracted rabies. Without fail, every month for the past two years, I walked up to the same receptionist with the same blank stare on her face. She would ask what my appointment was for and - bracing myself - I would answer, ""Just a bicillin injection."" And every month she would scream, ""OH MY GOD, DO YOU HAVE RABIES?!""
The first time, I freaked out, wondering how I had missed a bat or a wolf gnawing on me with foam gushing everywhere. But no, she simply never remembered that bicillin injections treat rabies and about a million other conditions. Clearly, screaming that someone has rabies to a room full of college kids was an intelligent and professional thing to do.
So each month I tried to explain the situation as my peers ran away in fear, but she was already calling the doctor for my ""emergency appointment.""
But those days were over. Now that I was 21 and out of the dorms, my doctor had decided I no longer needed the injections. This appointment was just for a cold that hadn't been going away.
Finally, someone unlocked the doors, and I climbed upstairs to the waiting room. There was no receptionist, just a computer check-in. It wasn't very welcoming, but at least it wasn't going to scream and send all the other patients running for their lives. This time was going to be different.
I went into one of the rooms, and an incredibly attractive male nurse took my vitals. He could have taken my number, too, but I thought that was too forward for our first appointment.
My own personal McDreamy called in the doctor. She looked over my file and then looked at me with a puzzled expression. My stomach sank as I saw her scan my chart full of injection records. ""OH MY GOD, DID YOU HAVE RABIES?!"" she screamed. I tried to explain, but she was already out the door.
If you have ever had a bad experience with a doctor, rabies or know what a Boo-Boo Bunny is, e-mail Megan at mcorbett2@wisc.edu.
