Monday, August 24, 2015
Ed O'Brien
I used to watch him on the early news every morning. Saw him once at a wedding in Saratoga, where he sat with the rest of the Channel 6 crew. Even this year, he couldn't wait for 2 things--to get back to work and for Opening Day at Saratoga.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Diagnosis Bleak
It seems so unreal to me, that once cancer has spread to the brain, the afflicted person can still be in control and speak in rational terms, with that something gnawing away at what defines their very being. But at least, and it is still a very slim "least," Jimmy Carter's cancer seems to be treatable.
At another time, in another place, I still hear the doctor's voice, as he drew a rough diagram: one slightly smaller circle inside another. "If the cancer were a ball," and he paused to pencil in a small round blob on his sketch, "we could treat it with radiation. But it's not. It's here," and he used the pencil to darken the area between the two circles, "in the fluid surrounding the brain, so there is no way to treat it."
Time is an elusive quality, and sometimes you can buy a little of it, and other times there is no negotiating at all.
At another time, in another place, I still hear the doctor's voice, as he drew a rough diagram: one slightly smaller circle inside another. "If the cancer were a ball," and he paused to pencil in a small round blob on his sketch, "we could treat it with radiation. But it's not. It's here," and he used the pencil to darken the area between the two circles, "in the fluid surrounding the brain, so there is no way to treat it."
Time is an elusive quality, and sometimes you can buy a little of it, and other times there is no negotiating at all.
The Talk(s)
My appointment today consisted of X-Ray and Ultrasound to track the progress or location or existence of kidney stones, a routine I undergo every six or nine months or so.
The woman at the check-in window of the X-Ray Department asked me if I had parked in the newly opened Parking Garage. I said I tried to avoid them because of their association with too many crime shows where bad things happened there. She laughed in agreement, and assured me that this garage was very nice, beautiful I think she said. The other woman behind the window, having overheard the remarks, told me that there was a new scam, that drivers were finding a piece of paper on their rear windows as they went to leave the parking garage, and when they got out of their car to retrieve the paper, the perpetrator would get in, and steal the car, and usually the women's purses that they would have left on the seat. The first woman handed me a leaflet extolling the merits of the new parking garage. The other woman said the scam had not happened there.
The X-Ray technician showed up to call me in for my procedure, a single and simple X-ray. A convivial fellow, he asked me where I was from, and when he heard Valley Falls he said he used to have a job as a vendor to the businesses there, but hadn't been to the area in many years. I asked if the company was Desormeau. I used to accept deliveries for them in my childhood clerking days. I didn't mention that though, being fairly certain that at the time, he would have been yet to be born. Yes, he said, though the name had been changed to Tri-City Vending Company. I remembered that too, though I didn't say so. What was the name, he asked of the big white building with the wide front porch, and the place that used to sell pizza, and some place called Keyes in Schaghticoke. I told him most of those places had burned down.
As it happened, there was a delay. He had to change the battery in the X-ray machine, and while he was doing so, he told me that his brother was about 3 inches taller than his own apparent 6 feet 2 or so, and weighed 50 pounds more, and had suffered a kidney stone which broke him down into tears of agony. He himself placed never having a kidney stone high on his bucket list. He viewed my film, and said "nothing jumped out" at him.
On to a brief wait before the session with the Ultra-Sound technician. She was young and looked fit, but she had to work around her ailing shoulder. Because of the constant position of her arm that her job called for, she had torn her rotator cuff. She'd gone through physical therapy, which helped somewhat. She said if they had told her about this occupational hazard, she would have trained for another position.
In a certain way, I find it almost gratifying that people I don't know seem willing to engage in conversation with apparent disregard of age, and without semblance of patronizing. The "conversation" is pretty much one-sided, but I don't mind.
The woman at the check-in window of the X-Ray Department asked me if I had parked in the newly opened Parking Garage. I said I tried to avoid them because of their association with too many crime shows where bad things happened there. She laughed in agreement, and assured me that this garage was very nice, beautiful I think she said. The other woman behind the window, having overheard the remarks, told me that there was a new scam, that drivers were finding a piece of paper on their rear windows as they went to leave the parking garage, and when they got out of their car to retrieve the paper, the perpetrator would get in, and steal the car, and usually the women's purses that they would have left on the seat. The first woman handed me a leaflet extolling the merits of the new parking garage. The other woman said the scam had not happened there.
The X-Ray technician showed up to call me in for my procedure, a single and simple X-ray. A convivial fellow, he asked me where I was from, and when he heard Valley Falls he said he used to have a job as a vendor to the businesses there, but hadn't been to the area in many years. I asked if the company was Desormeau. I used to accept deliveries for them in my childhood clerking days. I didn't mention that though, being fairly certain that at the time, he would have been yet to be born. Yes, he said, though the name had been changed to Tri-City Vending Company. I remembered that too, though I didn't say so. What was the name, he asked of the big white building with the wide front porch, and the place that used to sell pizza, and some place called Keyes in Schaghticoke. I told him most of those places had burned down.
As it happened, there was a delay. He had to change the battery in the X-ray machine, and while he was doing so, he told me that his brother was about 3 inches taller than his own apparent 6 feet 2 or so, and weighed 50 pounds more, and had suffered a kidney stone which broke him down into tears of agony. He himself placed never having a kidney stone high on his bucket list. He viewed my film, and said "nothing jumped out" at him.
On to a brief wait before the session with the Ultra-Sound technician. She was young and looked fit, but she had to work around her ailing shoulder. Because of the constant position of her arm that her job called for, she had torn her rotator cuff. She'd gone through physical therapy, which helped somewhat. She said if they had told her about this occupational hazard, she would have trained for another position.
In a certain way, I find it almost gratifying that people I don't know seem willing to engage in conversation with apparent disregard of age, and without semblance of patronizing. The "conversation" is pretty much one-sided, but I don't mind.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Down town with E. A. R.
"So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread.
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head."
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread.
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head."
Friday, August 14, 2015
Part 7: The Finale
The supervisor comes to the window to see what the issue is. I told her about the delayed appointment time, and she apologized. The results of the testing will be available if I call the office, though I may have to come in and pick them up. No problem there. (I hope they're normal. that I won't indeed receive a call, but I'm inured by now to all surprises.)
She asked if there was anything else, so I took this opportunity to share with her some of the observed issues mentioned above. She agreed that the sign was unfortunate, that they're attempting to get new signage installed. The problem was with the architects, she said, that they had placed a very large thick pillar in the middle of the room in front of the bay of windows. She said people didn't pay attention to the signs anyway. She, Meredith, I think her name was, seemed personable enough and I didn't want to be rude, but Sheesh, the reason people don't pay attention to the sign is that it is not visible except from a limited area. I didn't tell her that and neither did I say that I could walk right over, pick up the sign on its post and set it back to where more people could see it. Nor did I tell her that a few similar signs could be made and placed on the front and sides of the monstrous pillar, vastly increasing the visibility. The present sign is no more than a piece of posterboard atop a post. I left it alone; they're working on it, so she says. I didn't even point out that the sign is the same as when I was there several months ago, and in that same time period, the recently started construction of the parking garage has been completed.
Since we were on the subject, I could not refrain from saying the concept of having one line for both check in and check out was unwieldy and inefficient, and rather humiliating, when those who got it wrong were reproved for jumping the line. I said that in their old office, there were separate venues for those leaving their appointments, and it seemed a lot better. She said the CEO wanted there to be just one line. Then she said that she didn't know of any office that didn't have the problem of people having to stand in line. I suggested that taking a number would reduce the time that people would have to stand there, a rather important consideration especially in a cardiologist's office, wouldn't you say?
She asked if there was anything else, so I took this opportunity to share with her some of the observed issues mentioned above. She agreed that the sign was unfortunate, that they're attempting to get new signage installed. The problem was with the architects, she said, that they had placed a very large thick pillar in the middle of the room in front of the bay of windows. She said people didn't pay attention to the signs anyway. She, Meredith, I think her name was, seemed personable enough and I didn't want to be rude, but Sheesh, the reason people don't pay attention to the sign is that it is not visible except from a limited area. I didn't tell her that and neither did I say that I could walk right over, pick up the sign on its post and set it back to where more people could see it. Nor did I tell her that a few similar signs could be made and placed on the front and sides of the monstrous pillar, vastly increasing the visibility. The present sign is no more than a piece of posterboard atop a post. I left it alone; they're working on it, so she says. I didn't even point out that the sign is the same as when I was there several months ago, and in that same time period, the recently started construction of the parking garage has been completed.
Since we were on the subject, I could not refrain from saying the concept of having one line for both check in and check out was unwieldy and inefficient, and rather humiliating, when those who got it wrong were reproved for jumping the line. I said that in their old office, there were separate venues for those leaving their appointments, and it seemed a lot better. She said the CEO wanted there to be just one line. Then she said that she didn't know of any office that didn't have the problem of people having to stand in line. I suggested that taking a number would reduce the time that people would have to stand there, a rather important consideration especially in a cardiologist's office, wouldn't you say?
Part 6: Outlet
I don't think the technician who asked if I'd been late for my appointment believed me when I said I had arrived early and had waited 45 minutes because he excused himself and left the room to visit the desk. When he returned, he said he knew I hadn't arrived late, that it was a problem at the front desk which had caused him to take the 10:00 appointment ahead of mine. He was OK about it, and so was I, and the procedure went smoothly, taking only 10 minutes or so. Then I left to return to the line so I could check out. I know the drill by now, and the location of the sign.
I'm still ready to just leave for home, but when I asked the woman at checkout when I could get the results of the test, she said the policy is that I would be contacted only if the results are not as expected. I already knew that because there it is, plain as day, printed on each appointment card: "We will notify you of any test results that are other than what your doctor expected." These folks don't deal in unnecessary interactions. Now the problem is: I don't know really what the doctor expected. My next scheduled appointment is not until July of 2016. And since the office has botched up my paperwork for today, how can I be sure that today's report finds its way into the proper hands: what channel does it go through before or if it reaches the doctor?
I asked if a patient portal was available, and was told it's in the works but is not yet working. No surprise there. When I mentioned the above, that my appointment time had been somehow mishandled, she asked if I would like to talk to a supervisor about it because all she herself can do is handle check ins and outs. At first I said no, but when she said the supervisor is right there, I agreed. That's what supervisors are for, right?
I'm still ready to just leave for home, but when I asked the woman at checkout when I could get the results of the test, she said the policy is that I would be contacted only if the results are not as expected. I already knew that because there it is, plain as day, printed on each appointment card: "We will notify you of any test results that are other than what your doctor expected." These folks don't deal in unnecessary interactions. Now the problem is: I don't know really what the doctor expected. My next scheduled appointment is not until July of 2016. And since the office has botched up my paperwork for today, how can I be sure that today's report finds its way into the proper hands: what channel does it go through before or if it reaches the doctor?
I asked if a patient portal was available, and was told it's in the works but is not yet working. No surprise there. When I mentioned the above, that my appointment time had been somehow mishandled, she asked if I would like to talk to a supervisor about it because all she herself can do is handle check ins and outs. At first I said no, but when she said the supervisor is right there, I agreed. That's what supervisors are for, right?
Part 5; Tea-colored Tedium
The voice at the end of the line had told me I might have to wait ten minutes or so, but it's now more than 30 minutes. The woman sitting next to me has grown restless waiting for her ultrasound. She is complaining, quietly enough, to her companion, and on her cell phone, threatening to leave if she's not called soon. Her appointment was scheduled for 9:00 and it's now past 9:30. She tells me that I'll be waiting longer than 10 minutes past my appointment time too. She can't understand why a procedure of this type would run late. They're all by appointment, aren't they.
She evidently has some place else that she needs to be, and I don't, so I'm not really bothered by the delay, just bored enough, now that I'm done with my newspaper, so that my attention turns to the decor of the room, the carpeting first because I'm mostly staring at the floor. The office has been completely renovated within the last year, so the carpeting has to be new. But it doesn't appear so. The color is kind of a sepia toned weak-tea shade, and the pattern looks like vintage brocade drapes, but with a random trail of some kind of wandering design. There is a large stain, or maybe it's only a temporary spot, over near the row of windows. I hope it's just spilled water.
Tired of gazing downward, I look around and see that the walls are also the same dreary shade of pale tan, and note further that the upholstery of the chairs is the same hue. It could be that someone somewhere decided this shade of brown is the most restful for cardiac patients, but it reminds me of the color that the late writer Kurt Vonnegut identified as "babyshit brown."
She evidently has some place else that she needs to be, and I don't, so I'm not really bothered by the delay, just bored enough, now that I'm done with my newspaper, so that my attention turns to the decor of the room, the carpeting first because I'm mostly staring at the floor. The office has been completely renovated within the last year, so the carpeting has to be new. But it doesn't appear so. The color is kind of a sepia toned weak-tea shade, and the pattern looks like vintage brocade drapes, but with a random trail of some kind of wandering design. There is a large stain, or maybe it's only a temporary spot, over near the row of windows. I hope it's just spilled water.
Tired of gazing downward, I look around and see that the walls are also the same dreary shade of pale tan, and note further that the upholstery of the chairs is the same hue. It could be that someone somewhere decided this shade of brown is the most restful for cardiac patients, but it reminds me of the color that the late writer Kurt Vonnegut identified as "babyshit brown."
The Sign, Part 4
The sign, the one behind the pillar, is about the size of a standard cookie sheet, maybe a little smaller. It is held up by what looks like a portable shaft of some sort, stuck in a slot across the top. It reads, "PLEASE WAIT HERE TO BE CALLED BY A RECEPTIONIST, TO CHECK IN AND TO CHECK OUT.
More later, about the sign.....
More later, about the sign.....
Biding time, Part III
After duly standing in the single line before being called up to one of the 6 windows, I sat down in one of the more centrally positioned rows of seats in the vast waiting room of the cardiology office. Well, there are about 30 doctors associated with the practice so lots of patients wait lots of time. People were sitting, waiting, along both sides of the room as well. A man came out of the examining room with his checkout paper in hand and started to present it to the woman at the first window on his left. "Oh, no," he was told, "You have to stand in line, the one over there, behind the post." He quickly rectified his position and took his place behind the 5 or 6 people standing in the line. The line concealed behind the post.
A while later, a man entered the office and obediently walked up and joined the line, to check in. A woman in a walker appeared behind him, and in a strident voice, said, "Sir, you took my place in line. I was here before you." He turned, surprised, and told her as he stepped back out of line, "Help yourself." Then, mumbling, "I didn't see you, didn't know you were in line." She ignored his mutterings, and him altogether; she just wanted her place in the all-important, one only, line. I assume that since she was using a walker, she had taken a seat along the side of the room, but still wanted to reserve her space. Sometimes cardiac patients become fatigued. Because by this time, I had finished both the Jumble and Crossword, I was bored enough to notice that his face had turned red, with embarrassment probably, and maybe a little anger. I would hope that his discomfort would have been directed not at the woman's aggression, but at whoever is responsible for the hellish situation of the facility, but he said nothing, nothing I was aware of anyway.
A while later, a man entered the office and obediently walked up and joined the line, to check in. A woman in a walker appeared behind him, and in a strident voice, said, "Sir, you took my place in line. I was here before you." He turned, surprised, and told her as he stepped back out of line, "Help yourself." Then, mumbling, "I didn't see you, didn't know you were in line." She ignored his mutterings, and him altogether; she just wanted her place in the all-important, one only, line. I assume that since she was using a walker, she had taken a seat along the side of the room, but still wanted to reserve her space. Sometimes cardiac patients become fatigued. Because by this time, I had finished both the Jumble and Crossword, I was bored enough to notice that his face had turned red, with embarrassment probably, and maybe a little anger. I would hope that his discomfort would have been directed not at the woman's aggression, but at whoever is responsible for the hellish situation of the facility, but he said nothing, nothing I was aware of anyway.
Waiting Room, Part II
He is so out of place in the cardiologist's waiting room. First of all, he is young, so that makes him stand out, but not as noticeably as the way he is dressed. He is wearing a suit, a well-fitting one at that. And real shoes, the only pair of leather-shod feet in the waiting room. Moreover, he has a haircut, the kind that, while fairly long on top, shows undeniable signs of having been razor-cut in areas. His appearance screams "Pharmaceutical Rep." He may as well have been wearing a sign. He sits, waiting, for a while, but not for too long. A female staff member appears to tell him that unfortunately, Dr. P. will not be able to see him today, as the doctor is "swamped" with appointments. Another office tech appears, trying to offer another option. The two women continue to fawn over him, kind of competing with each other to see who can be most helpful, one advising the other that "we don't want to keep him waiting too long." (The waiting room is lined with waiting patients, who presumably are not being paid for their time.) Finally, it is decided that the man should return another time, that the doctor he was hoping to see would be so informed. As he prepares to leave, he hands the staff member a packet containing a dozen or so packages of samples of some kind. The staff member exclaims, "Oh, are you giving these to me?"
Thursday, August 13, 2015
The Hell That Is A Medical Office
All else aside, for now anyway, this is the story for today: My appointment, for a routine ultrasound, was scheduled at my last visit about a month ago for 9:30 this morning. I arrived 15 minutes early, stood in the line of humiliation, and checked in. The rep at the window said there would be a wait; they had a lot of ultrasounds scheduled for today. I told her I knew I was early, that my appointment was for 9:30. She said I may have to wait until 20 of 10:00. I didn't mind, sat and did the Jumble and the Crossword, and time went by. At 10 o'clock, I decided I would leave if the wait went over one hour. I was called in at exactly 10:15, and the first thing the tech said to me was:
"Were you late for your appointment?" No, I told him, and said that I'd been waiting 45 minutes. He left the room, and returned, saying "they" hadn't sent the order and that he'd taken his 10:00 o'clock patient ahead of me.
When I went to check out, I asked when the results would be ready. She seemed surprised, said I would be notified if the results were not as expected. I asked if there was a patient portal and she said they were still working on setting it up; it wasn't available yet. I said, considering what had evidently happened to my paperwork today, that I wanted the results myself. My next appointment isn't until next July. Who knows what could happen to another piece of paper by then.
More later----I like to remember these things, so life seems better without them.
"Were you late for your appointment?" No, I told him, and said that I'd been waiting 45 minutes. He left the room, and returned, saying "they" hadn't sent the order and that he'd taken his 10:00 o'clock patient ahead of me.
When I went to check out, I asked when the results would be ready. She seemed surprised, said I would be notified if the results were not as expected. I asked if there was a patient portal and she said they were still working on setting it up; it wasn't available yet. I said, considering what had evidently happened to my paperwork today, that I wanted the results myself. My next appointment isn't until next July. Who knows what could happen to another piece of paper by then.
More later----I like to remember these things, so life seems better without them.
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