Had my annual mammogram this morning. Gave the lovely lady in admissions my doctor's name, address, and phone number and she noted that none of that changed from last year. I go for my the actual xrays and, while I'm nude to waist under my little paisley cover, the tech looks over my forms and says the information is incomplete. Do I have my doctor's fax number? Um … not with me. Obviously. Maybe in my purse. "We have no way of contacting him," says Linda the tech.
"Yes, you do. It's there. They told me in admissions none of his information had changed."
"But they didn't get his fax number. We have no way of contacting him without a fax."
"Maybe I have a fax number in my purse. But I know the phone number and address are there."
"We don't call. You can call from our desk and get his fax number. Do you think they're open?" (It was 8:45 or so.)
"I don't know," say I. And suddenly the ridiculousness of this washes over me. "So if I don't get you a fax number, you'll just let me die?"
I mean, geez! I'm holding the little booklet about breast cancer. I'm there to find out if I have breast cancer. This is a stressful experience for any woman -- including Linda the tech. And now I get to let her smoosh my breasts between plates?
She got much nicer after that. She noted the sunburn on my arm and asked me about my weekend and told me about her boat. Then, as I was leaving, she said, "Don't worry. I'll mail your doctor the report."
THANK YOU!!!!
Excellent response by asking an absurd question to her repetitive requests for a fax number. It put it all into perspective. Imagine if you were really scared and nervous about the procedure?
ReplyDeleteI work in a hospital and a lot of the younger people are so task oriented that they are unable to work around "roadblocks". Hope it all went well.
Thanks for the good thoughts. I should receive the results in about a week.
ReplyDeleteI have no particular reason to be nervous about the outcome of this mammogram (except for being nearly 50, childless and overweight; yes, I read that brochure). But I think that while wearing that little paisley cover and looking at the xray machine, EVERY woman is scared. I'll be nervous again when the envelope containing the test results arrives. I wish the woman I referred to in my post could remember that before she became Linda the Tech, she was still Linda the Woman, just like the rest of us, and she meets her patients at a vulnerable time.