Hello. It’s Mrs. Mumbledimumbler; I need the doctor to call me right away. My hip is driving me crazy. Please call me.
I listen to the message three times so I can sort of make out the name. The problem is that even though I think I can understand it, I don’t recognize it at all. But I call her because she said she needed me to call her right away.
Hello. I need you to call me in some tramadol right away.
“What was your name again?”
She repeats it clearly enough for me to confirm that I really don’t recognize it.
“Have I ever seen you in the office?”
Let me get this straight: it’s 9:00 at night and your hip is hurting, so you call a doctor who’s a complete stranger and insist that they call you in a powerful painkiller without ever having seen you, taken your medical history, or examined you? I don’t think so.
“Um, I’m sorry ma’am, but I really can’t do that unless you’re an established patient in my office.”
Oh, okay; never mind.
I suppose I should count my lucky stars that she didn’t want vicodin.
*This blog post was originally published at Musings of a Dinosaur*