Counting to Ten

As I have prefaced other such posts I hasten to do again.  I like my job.  I like the overwhelming majority of the patients I deal with every day. On occasion though, there are some I want to throttle.  Last week the annoying ones seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork.  Even the office manager noted I couldn't seem to catch a break.  Here, for your amusement and my own therapy, I offer one situation near the end of a long day with a surplus of snotty patients and how I wanted to respond.

Every day I make the reminder calls for the following day's appointments.  Usually I wind up leaving messages but sometimes I have actual human interface like this example.

Me: Hello, this is Michelle from XYZ Chiropractic calling for Bill to confirm his appointment for tomorrow.
Mrs. Bill: (snarling) When is my husband going to start feeling better?!
Me: (pausing in incredulity while I suppress my urge to rip this charming woman a new one, breathing deeply as wisps of smoke begin to escape from my ears before responding as sweetly as I possibly can)  Well, ma'am, healing is a process that can take some time.  Shall we expect him tomorrow?
Mrs. Bill:  (more snarling) I suppose.

Now mind you, Bill is a brand new patient who has been to our office exactly two times before this phone call.  Out of respect for patient privacy I cannot give you his diagnosis and history but suffice it to say he presents with a LONG list of symptoms from conditions he has had for many years.  It is immediately apparent to even an untrained eye that he has quite a lot to deal with.  He didn't just sleep on his neck wrong and wake up feeling a bit stiff.  Allow me to also say that he seems like a generally decent guy who is not unpleasant, merely in pain.  All that informs the response I craved to give.

"Well, you send him on in and with my magical powers as the front desk lady I will cast a spell over him, sprinkle some fairy dust, and he'll skip on out of here like a little kid.  Then maybe we can set up an appointment for you where we perform a cranio-rectal extraction so you can chill the hell out and get off his back.  I'm willing to bet that will make him feel better too."

...Beep...

As part of my job I am required to make daily confirmation calls for appointments.  As such I get to hear an absurd number of voice mail messages.  Most of them are pretty standard but some of them stand out.  Allow me to share.


Hi, this is Mary.  I'm REALLY sorry I'm not available.  I promise to call you back as soon as I can if you leave me a message.
On the surface it seems pretty standard but the apologetic tone and earnest promise make me wonder why she seems to have such a guilt complex about phone messages.



Hi, this is Jack and Jill, we're probably home but just screening our calls in case we don't want to talk to you.  You can leave a message but if we don't return it you probably shouldn't bother calling back...ever.
Alrighty then, so much for social conventions.  On a positive note, it's one less person I have to call, right?



Hi, this is Jane.  You may not like leaving messages but I like hang-ups even less so just leave me a message when it beeps.
What if I have a hang-up about leaving messages?



I like smiling.  It's my favorite.  What's your favorite?
Literally, that's all the voice mail says.  No identification.  No request for a message.  It tempts me to respond with, "My favorite is when grown people sound like they have brains in their skulls instead of like they were abducted by some weird airport dwelling cult."



Revelation 3:20 says Behold I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with with me.  Please don't miss this opportunity to accept Christ's invitation...etc, etc...(insert mini sermon you think may use up whatever space is on voicemail) . Please leave a message and consider reading God's message in the Bible.
Father, forgive me for the violent thoughts I had waiting to be able to leave my message.






This is Susan, I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave a message with your name and number I'll return your call as soon as possible.  I bid you a good day and good thoughts.
Good thoughts?  Good idea.  I needed the reminder.






At one point during my call list I wondered aloud how many minutes of my life have been spent waiting for the beep.  Ironically, we had a very math oriented patient in the waiting room who overheard me and decided this was a question he had to answer.  According to him I spend between 45-60 minutes a week waiting for the beep.  I think I preferred when it was a rhetorical question.

Overheard in the Office

One of our patients keeps us updated on her 90 year old mother's various adventures and her love life.  Yes, you read that right.  The nonagenarian widow had a younger boyfriend.  Here then is a recent conversation she related to us that I found too funny not to share.

90: I need a new dancing partner now that my younger boyfriend died.

Daughter: Ma, you're not only a cougar, you're a black widow!  This is the third man you've buried!  I think it's time you start hanging out with your girlfriends.

90: Honey, you know as well as I do there's nothing quite like a man's companionship.

Daughter: Yeah, but you keep killing them!

90: Well, at my age there's no such thing as a long term relationship.

Out of the Mouths of Patients

The overwhelming majority of patients at our office are lovely people.  These are people who are pleasant, cooperative, easy going, or even thoughtful.  I enjoy greeting them and engaging in some friendly chat to make them feel welcome.  Heck, I even enjoy doing the same for the ones who are either nondescript or who come in feeling blue or worn down by obvious pain. Then there are the underwhelming minority, the demanding, the surly, the oblivious, the energy suckers...Lord have mercy.

There is one family in particular who are basically oblivious, energy suckers prone to high drama.  At least they aren't surly, right?  Anyway, they are certain that every incident in their lives is of utmost importance and interest to everyone around them and they just wouldn't want to deprive anyone the joy of hearing all about it.  Of course, they also feel it's their duty to deprive others of the opportunity to add anything to a conversation.  They are also chronically late to appointments but always come with an excuse.  Allow me to recount the most recent excuse.

Setting: The front desk


(Mother, Father and Teen Daughter enter and immediately surround the desk as they lean in close.)

Family: (in rapid fire talking over each other) We know we're late!  It's a miracle!  It's Amazing!  We had a true miracle at the house today, that's why we're late! YOU JUST CAN'T BELIEVE IT!

Me: (Plastering a smile on my face while calculating how much interest I have to feign to be polite without encouraging the unabridged version) Oh, is that so?

Mother: (fanning herself lest she faint in amazement at the magnitude of the miracle)  Oh yes!  The septic system!

Teen Daughter: Oh Mommy, can you believe it?

Father: You just won't believe it.  We had all sorts of problems today...

Mother: We didn't have the septic tank pumped out for 5 years and we just had to.

(I chide myself internally for spending time mentally calculating the volume of human waste this large family could produce in five years.)

Father:  It was cheap last time.  This time I think they charged us double.

Mother: It's a real racket.

Father: (making dramatic motions indicating great space) Of course the lid of the system had lifted up because it was so full

Mother: But still they are just cheating us charging so much.

Father: And then they said there was something broken and it was going to cost even more.

(They blathered on at length regarding the inner workings of their septic system and plumbing during which I considered stabbing myself in the neck but nodded and uh-huhhed periodically as I found ANYTHING else I could do at the desk to convey the general notion that I had work to do and perhaps they should be moving along.  You can thank me later for editing the graphic details.)

Mother: (wiping the sweat from her brow as the story climax nears) So then they thought maybe it was only that...that....oh...the floaters.

Me: (arching my eyebrows, nodding, and thinking about mangled kittens so I don't guffaw at the notion of fixing the "septic floaters.")

Father: (waving his hand dismissively at his wife) The FLOAT, dear...the FLOAT!  So we tried that and it worked.  All we needed was a new float.

Teen Daughter: (nodding enthusiastically) It's a miracle!

Mother: (clutching the desk to keep from swooning) Oh thank God!

Me: (forcing myself not to make a crack about them finally getting their shit together) Well, that's quite a relief I'm sure.

(Finally, they move on from my desk to the waiting area so they can regale other patients with this astonishing story. I enter the billing department and slump.)

Biller: (snickering at how I had to endure that and she could bury herself in billing as a more interesting alternative) I'm impressed with your patience.

Me: (standing straight, assuming a serene air, folding my hands in prayerful repose) It's a true septic miracle.  (then whispering wickedly) It's just a wee tad ironic that their miracle would involved huge quantities of their own excrement.

Two Ringy Dingies

A big part of my job is answering phone calls, answering questions, and scheduling patients.  Most of the calls are reasonably straight forward.  A few are from people who think I may be the person who will direct their treatment and they feel the need to give their entire medical history in one phone call before I can schedule them.  Of course, that's generally when the front desk is already at its busiest with folks trying to check in and out for their visits.  I also get to field the sales calls, which are highly annoying.  Then there are the calls that are just memorable in terms of the gross misunderstanding of what we are willing to do.  Here are some top examples from recent history.

Me:  Good morning. XYZ Chiropractic and Wellness  Center.  This is Michelle. How may I help you?

Caller: I need to have my aura cleansed.

Me: I beg your pardon.

Caller: My aura needs to be cleansed.  I see your wellness program includes meditation.

Me:  Well, yes it does but more from the standpoint of relaxation and stress reduction, not so much in terms of an overtly spiritual practice.

Caller: What a sad excuse for wellness.  *click*


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Me: Good morning. XYZ Chiropractic and Wellness  Center.  This is Michelle. How may I help you?

Caller: I'd like to schedule a high colonic.

Me: (not entirely sure I heard correctly) A high colonic?

Caller: Yes.  When can I come in?

Me: I'm sorry that's not a service we offer.

Caller: (indignantly) You ARE a wellness center aren't you?

Me: (working  hard to stifle the urge to say yes, but we aren't plumbers)  We are indeed, but as I said, that's not a service we offer.

Caller: *click*


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Me: Good Morning, XYZ Chiropractic and Wellness Center.  This is Michelle.  How may I help you?

Caller:  I'd like to schedule a naked massage from a gay man.

Me:  (trying to figure out which smart alec must be pranking me then realizing the caller is serious) Uh...I'm sorry that's not a service we offer.

Caller: *click*

Update & Something More Positive

Well, Calypso is in the hospital again.  She will be there at least a couple of days.  She is disheartened and tired.  I won't lie, so am I.  I have to give a shout out to a nurse manager who finally took me seriously and sought out the answers no one else was giving me.  She advocated with me for Calypso to see a competent doctor who carefully answers questions and made the decision to admit.  I'm thankful for all of that, but I am still very tired.  I'm reminding myself to continue to be aware of the good things happening in spite of the things that are wearying and worrisome.  To that end here is a conversation I had with a patient who had no idea what I was going through at work yesterday (hysterical phone calls from a child and me trying to chase down doctors and answers while getting the run around).  Thanks to all for the prayers, good thoughts, and well wishes.  I'd appreciate any you'd continue to send our way.

The patient, we'll call him Milton, is currently going through a series of exercises to strengthen himself.  One involves holding in each hand pulleys which are connected to the weight machine.  He then must make a shrugging motion as he lifts.  It was the end of the night, my cleaning night at work, and I was scurrying around gathering the garbage.

Milton: (exercising very deliberately as he checks his form in the mirror)  Hey, Michelle, ask me a question!

Me: (giving a confused look) Huh?

Milton: (grinning like the Cheshire Cat) Ask me a question, any question at all!

Me: Uh...ok.  What's the square root of 49?

Milton: (with an exaggerated shrug in his exercise and an impishly quizzical expression) I don't know!

Me: (bursting out in laughter as I continue gathering trash) Good one, Milt!  Ya got me!

Milton: (giggling like a kid) Ask me another one!

Me: (chuckling and still working) What's the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Milton: (smiling ear to ear and giggling as he shrugs in exercise again) I don't know!  Ask me another! Ask me another!

Me: (laughing and dumping another bin into the big garbage bag) What's the meaning of life?

Milton: (pauses in silence then looks over his shoulder at me)

Me: (looking up to see if he heard my question)

Milton: (seeing he has made eye contact drops his voice to a gentle tone) That's easy...to love.

Me: (struck to my core) You're absolutely right, Milton.  Thank you, first for the laughter, then for the truth.  You made my night.

Overheard at the Office

The office where I work has several chiropractors. One of them is a rather strapping fellow who is quite easy on the eyes. He's also very personable and knows the power of his baby blues. All together it has earned him a bit of a following among a number of female patients. Last week we had a patient return to care who hadn't been in the office since before Dr. Hubba Hubba was hired. We'll call her Sadie. Her comments upon checking out were too hilarious not to share.

Sadie: Wow! When did you hire him? He's fantastic! He threw me around on that table the way a man oughta throw around a woman. And have ya seen his hands? They're huuuuge! God, 5 minutes on his table was the best sex I've ever had!!

Me: (stifling guffaws) He's been here about a year.

Sadie: Well, I've wasted a year of my life not coming in for adjustments!

Me: And when do you need to make your next appointment?

Sadie: (dropping her voice to a purr) How about later today?

Overheard in the Office

When last we left one of my favorite patients he was struggling with staples poking him in the derriere. This week we have another chapter of "Overheard in the Office" starring Bob.

Bob sees one of our massage therapists who has developed a reputation as being directly descended from the Marquis de Sade. Even when working on muscle groups that are not generally considered painful to work deeply with she has been known to elicit pleas for mercy. When working on a muscle such as the Iliopsoas she earns every bit of the reputation that causes patients to tremble in fear. I've had her work on my Iliopsoas, or Psoas (SEW-az) for short (Almost makes it sound like a beloved pet with a cute little nickname, doesn't it? Do not be fooled!). I know well the pain she can inflict.


In order for you to appreciate this in some small way let me give you a brief anatomy lesson. This muscle attaches to the lower back at one end and the femur at the other. This means it goes from the back of the body to the front of the body. It is buried under a few other layers of unpronounceable muscles. In order to access it the massage therapist lays her fingers on top of your hipbone as you lay face up. She then slides her fingers down your hipbone toward your innards, actually slipping under some of your innards to finally reach the Iliopsoas. You should more or less imagine being slowly eviscerated with a spoon. This is before she ever touches a sore muscle. Once she hits that muscle, which she is only trying to access because it is already causing you pain, she is going to make it hurt even more. You are either going to want to punch her, let loose with a torrent of profanity, or both. Our pal Bob was heard to yelp then growl. Much like Inigo Montoya remarking on Westley's shrieks at the hands of the Six-fingered Man in The Princess Bride, I intoned to alarmed office dwellers, "This is the sound of ultimate suffering."

A little while later Bob was overheard telling the Six-fingered Massage Therapist, "I used to think you were a nice person." SFMT responded with a deranged chuckle and by countering she had learned something new about anatomy that day. I asked what that could possibly be. She informed me, "Well, Bob here demonstrated conclusively that the Psoas is connected to the middle finger." He smiled triumphantly as he proudly admitted flipping her off during the torture massage. I told him he was my hero.

Obervations and Advice from the Waiting Room

I have done a bit of complaining about certain things at work but there are aspects of the job I really love. Mostly, that would boil down to the patients. First of all, I am a devoted people watcher and a waiting room is a great place for such activity. (If you have a little time or need a real belly laugh you can check out this post from when I was a patient. Of course, sometimes the health car e providers themsleves are the source of humor, intentional or otherwise, and if you have a lot more time here's a link to a series of posts about Diana's encounters with her orthodontist.) Secondly, interacting with some of the patients is a real hoot sometimes. Allow me to share.



OBSERVATIONS

• Certain parents are going to have one hell of a rough time in the teen years if they already let toddlers run the show.
• It's completely endearing to see a sweet, quiet, unassuming 82 year old woman shake it like a Poloroid picture when Outkast plays on the office iPod.
• Free food brings long lost patients out of the woodwork.
• It's a thing of beauty to see couples who have spent a lifetime together being tender with each other.
• Some folks receive healing from a little meaningful conversation as much as from chiropractic care.
• The older folks with a good sense of humor and who are inclined to smile the most are the ones who have the handsomest wrinkles.
• If the doctors could offer attitude adjustments along with spinal adjustments, many parents would sign up their kids for that service.
• Some people are just dumber than a box of rocks.
• Other people who have so many odds stacked against them, so few resources from which to draw, and who keep persevering are very admirable.
• I must be prepared to quickly disarm patients who pick up this implement and hold it to their temples. See also: dumber than a box of rocks.
• Viewing x-rays and getting to see all the weird places people have piercings is pretty hilarious. Somehow all those piercings are far less "sexy" though highly entertaining on a skeleton.
  

ADVICE

• From the couple who just celebrated their 61st anniversary when asked what was their secret. The husband replied, "She's a great cook." The wife added, "Kissing doesn't keep. Cooking does."
• Another patient lets me know where all the best grocery deals are every week. I like a good bargain but I suppose given the prior advice I could also consider it a form of marriage therapy.
• I should not wear a particular pair of pants because it makes me look "wide." A second opinion declares I should wear them because I got "good booty."
• Finally, if I have a need I shouldn't be shy about expressing it like one patient does with this button on her purse. And yes, I had permission to take a picture of it.