My Walk-In Horror Story

What started of as a sinus cold last Wednesday, made its way into my chest by Friday.  Saturday morning after a long spell of hacking up neon green phlegm from my lungs, my husband said that I needed to go to the doctor.  Since it was a weekend, we drove together to our local walk-in.  We arrived at twenty past noon.  Thirty minutes into my wait, I get called up to the counter to register for my appointment.  Forty-five minutes into my wait, the doctor came out into the lobby and turned the air conditioning up because she was “hot back there.”  Of course I wouldn’t know about “back there” seeing as I had already been waiting for almost an hour at that point in the lobby.   For the next hour, the lobby had a revolving front door with people, myself included, going outside to warm up in the sun for a few minutes.  It was 80 degrees that afternoon, so I didn’t think to take a sweater with me.  (Not to self- always keep a spare sweater in the car).  Meanwhile, I am pretty sure that the sweet-as-pie elderly woman sitting next to me shit in her diaper.  Finally, after an hour and forty-five minutes of waiting, freezing, and smelling shit, I hear the most beautiful sound.  It was as if an angel got its wings.  Could it be true??? Was my name just actually called?? “Yes!” I cheered as I jumped up from my seat. 


I was led to exam room five and was greeted by the nurse who told me that she hoped the doctor had a chance to eat lunch soon because she hadn’t eaten yet.  I told her that I couldn’t wait to eat either since I’d been in the waiting room for 2 hours. I told the nurse that I was three months pregnant and that my OB provided a list of medications she found safe during pregnancy.  The nurse told me to make sure that I showed the doctor when she came in. 


Exit nurse. Wait five minutes.  In walks Dr. X, who will remain nameless as my pending review will we less than flattering.  Dr. X initiates by asking if I’ve been to any doctors lately.  I replied, “Only my OB.”  She asks, “Why have you been there?”  I told her because I was three months pregnant.  (This was my first clue that she had not actually even looked at my chart.  I had observed the nurse write down that fact in large letters in my chart.)  She immediately asks…wait for it….  “Were you expecting it?  Are you keeping it?”  I saw red!  Mind you I look young for my age, but I’m almost thirty.  I’m not a fifteen year old that got pregnant and was too afraid to tell my parents.  I’m also not some scrote out turning tricks for a living. Since I’m three months, I would have to have some back alley abortion if I decided not to “keep it”- to quote the good doctor.  I’m also pretty sure my husband would get pissed if I threw our baby out with the garbage. 

It gets better. …

 Dr. X asked me if I had any other medical issues she should know about.  I told her that I was allergic to amoxicillin. Dr. X asked me what my symptoms were, checked up my nose, listened to me breath in and out a few times, and then told me that she was going to prescribe me amoxicillin.  She must have observed the way I cocked my head to the side and the irritated look on my face because she said, “Oh, That’s right.  You’re allergic to amoxicillin.”  I told her that my OB provided me with a list of prescriptions that she said were safe to take during pregnancy.  She asked to see the list and then told me that she was going to prescribe me a Z-pack (azithromycin).  Mind you, azithromycin was not on the list.  I mention that to her and she asks to see the list again.  Dr. X finally tells me she is going to prescribe a cephalosporin.  However, she does not write me a script and send me on my way.  I had to wait a few more minutes for a different nurse to bring the prescription in to me.  Next stop food, then CVS (where I made my embarrassing purchase of “pajama jeans”)….review to follow.  Don’t judge me.


Was I being over sensitive or was Dr. X way out of line?


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