Don't let the door hit you....

In my ten+ years working on the front lines of the health care system, I've been called every name in the book. Idiot, bitch, asshole, racist (that's for a later post), dumb ass....the list goes on and on.

The first time I was called an idiot, I remember how hurt I was. Why does this person think I'm an idiot? I'm not an idiot! I really took it personally. Now, when the names fly, I just let it roll off my back. I've become numb to people projecting their frustration onto me.

Most of the time, when I'm called these names, the doctors I work do not witness it. Usually it's on the phone - much easier to berate a person when you're not standing there face-to-face. This, however, was an exception.

We recently had a patient who was upset with the wait time. We had an emergency with another patient arise and it was taking a little more of the doctor's time. I explained that to the patient when she checked in for her appointment. She sighed and then plopped down in a chair with the latest issue of People.

Twenty minutes later, the nurse calls her back for her appointment. The doctor comes in no more than 5 minutes later. Halfway through the exam, while he's going over her current medication regimen, he receives a call from the hospital (on his work cellphone) about the patient with whom he was previously tied up. He explains to his current patient what the call is and excuses himself from the exam room.

60 seconds later, this patient comes storming out of the exam room and starts to SCREAM at me in front of another patient. The names started flying. I'll abbreviate her rant for you:

I'm an idiot who doesn't know what the hell I'm doing because I schedule his fucking patients when he's busy and she's not putting up with this shit and she's finding a new doctor because she doesn't want to deal with the dumb bitches here in the office that schedule appointment.

I'm the only one who schedules for this doctor so that makes me not only an idiot, but a dumb bitch, too. Score!

I start to open my mouth to explain what the problem with the doctor was, but I had a rough weekend so all I could muster was a shoulder shrug and: "'kay."

She started in on me again telling me I didn't care about the patients and calling me a few more names.

The doctor hears this commotion, finishes his phone call and emerges from his office to see what the hubbub is all about. He comes out to see this patient ripping me a new asshole.

Now, let me give you some background on this doctor: he is about 5 feet tall, Asian and very soft spoken. He is the epitome of calm and I have never heard him raise his voice.

Doc goes over to the patient, gently puts his hand on her shoulder and asks her to come with him. The go into the nearest exam room and close the door. Next thing I know, the patient comes out of the room in, looks at me and says, in a very quiet voice: "I apologize for my behavior." She walks out of the office with her tail between her legs.

Doc instructs me to copy her records and mail them to her. If she calls, I am not to schedule her for an appointment. She is no longer welcome in this office. He tells me that he will not tolerate anyone treating his staff in that manner. If anyone talks to me like that again, I am to notify him immediately so he can address the issue with the patient directly.

While I may never know what he said to this patient, it was nice to have someone in my corner for a change.

Wakey, wakey....

I have children and I fully appreciate how difficult it can be to find child care. That being said, it never bothers me when someone has to bring their children to their doctor's appointments. I have coloring books and picture books in the waiting room and will turn on cartoons if I have children waiting. However, it's incidents like this that really test my patience.

A young (late twenties) man brought his mother-in-law in for her appointment. He brought along with him his two-year-old son. The little boy was adorable and very well behaved as he sat on a chair and looked at a book.

As I was sitting here at my desk I suddenly heard a grumble come from the waiting room. I look up to see the dad slouched down in his chair fast asleep and snoring. The little boy continue to sit there and look at picture books while his daddy slept. This went on for about 10 minutes.

As I was assisting a patient with scheduling an appointment I heard a crash, again, coming from the waiting room. I look over to see the little guy had dumped the basket of books and crayons all over the floor. No big deal - he's two.

Dad, however, hasn't budged. He's still sawing logs.

I continue to help the patient I was with, trying not to show my increasing frustration as I see the little boy begin to throw every magazine, brochure and flyer in our waiting room on the floor. Dad's still snoozing.

I finish with the patient and she and her husband get ready to leave the office. As they put on their coats and start to walk out the door Junior takes off - out the door and down the handicapped ramp. The patient's husband runs after him as I jump from my chair and run into the waiting room. The escapee is wrangled and brought back into the office crying.

Dad is STILL ASLEEP.

I go over and tap him on the shoulder, he doesn't budge.

I tap harder.

He wakes up, looks at me and says (I can't make this crap up): "What the fuck?"

"Would you mind waking up and looking after your son? He's trashing our waiting room just ran out the front door!"

He literally says NOTHING to me. No response whatsoever. I don't really know what I was expecting. He says nothing to his son - just takes out his cellphone and stares at it.

The patient and her husband (who caught the little guy) just stand there in disbelief. I thank them and say goodbye as I start to pick up the things on the floor. Dad doesn't move as he watches me pick up while his son is sitting on the floor crying.

Grandma comes out and asks Dad why Junior is crying. Dad's answer: "I dunno." So, I tell her that he wasn't happy because another patient prevented him from escaping into our parking lot. Grandma rolls her eyes, looks at her son-in-law and calls him a jackass.

Can you please hold while I flush?

I drink about 6 cans of Diet Coke a day. It's not the healthiest of my habits, but I equate Diet Coke to my coffee. I need it first thing in the morning when I get up and it's the last thing I drink before I call it a night. That being said, I take frequent, but not too frequent, bathroom breaks during the day.

If you were to call my desk during one of my kajillion bathroom breaks, you'd get my voicemail. It is a very polite message explaining that I am either on the phone assisting another patient or away from my desk. I left out the part where I tell them that maybe I just don't feel like talking to them right now or my mouth is stuffed full of Hershey Kisses (my other weakness). If you were to leave a message on my voicemail, you will generally receive a call back within 30 minutes. I'm pretty diligent with this - I hate leaving things that need to be done hanging around taunting me from the yellow post-its on my desk.

The other day, when I stepped away to go to the bathroom (and grab another Diet Coke from the fridge) my phone rang 5 times. When I got back to my desk, I had 5 voicemails. So, I cracked open my fresh soda and hit play.

Message one was a hang-up.
Message two was a heavy sigh followed by a hang-up.
Message three was another heavy sigh, a frustrated "Hello?" and a hang-up.
Message four was yet another heavy sigh followed by an angry "Aw C'MON!!" and a hang-up.
Message five, my mystery man finally left a message. An angry, frustrated I-hate-talking-to-a-machine message.

I call my not-so-admirer back almost immediately (after a few gulps of my poison). I introduce myself and before I can get the "how can I help you?" out, he starts YELLING at me.

"Doesn't anyone answer the Goddamned phone down there? Where the hell is everyone?!"

I explain to him that I work alone and that I stepped away from my desk to use the restroom.

Now, let me stop and say I have NO IDEA why I told this man I was having a pee. I just felt the need to be honest, I guess?

He says to me - as serious as can be - "Well then you should have a phone with you!"

Immediately the mental image of me sitting on the can schedule appointments appeared in my head and it took everything in me to stifle my laughter.

At this point, it sounds like my phone friend has tucked the receiver under his chin as he continues to yell at me. I can't understand a word he's saying.

I repeatedly ask him to stop yelling. Please slow down. I can't understand you.

More yelling.

Finally I say: "Sir, if you don't stop yelling, I'll have to hang-up."

Even more yelling, so I put the receiver gently back in its cradle.

About 10 minutes later, I decide I should call Mr. Potty-Phone back. After 6 rings, I get his voicemail. I slump down in my chair and leave a message. A very polite, I've-never-spoken-to-you-before message.

My phone rings not five minutes later. I fought the temptation to hit the "transfer to mailbox" button when I saw his number come up on the caller id and answered the phone in the most polite voice I could muster.

Either his thorazine kicked in or Dr. Jekyl's potion wore off because he was calm and nice and I could clearly understand what he was saying.

Another experience to add to my life as a medical receptionist.

Post One

Welcome to the boring, sometimes compicated, always dramatic life of a medical receptionist. Join me as I face the good, the bad and the ugly of dealing with the general public.

The stories I share will focus only on events I encounter in my everyday life working the front desk for a medical facility. All names and locations will be changed to prevent the innocent (and prevent a HIPAA violation).