Bob's Blog 6-6-15: Mea Culpa Doc(s)

Bob Here.

I quickly developed a love-hate relationship with doctors when I first started dialysis.

Love-Hate, as in, I hated most of my doctors and loved when they left my room.

Now, as with most relationships, there was plenty of blame to go around for the poor state of my dealings with these highly educated, personality-challenged folks.

But lately in one of my always-plentiful pensive times (you know the drill - long treatment, bored silly, lots of time to think, yada, yada, yada...), I've been wondering who should get the lion's share of the blame for a relationship that would be featured on the cover of Dysfunction Monthly Magazine.

And I came to a somewhat surprising conclusion.

Turns out, I have met the culprit and he is me.

I'll admit that since I was learning to deal with the life-altering dialysis way of existence, I wasn't always in the best frame of mind when the docs rolled by for a visit, whether it was in my initial stay in the hospital or later in the dialysis center.

In fact, it's probably safe to say that at least some of my doctors regarded having to come see me as ranking right up there with proctology exams, preparing your income taxes, and having your gums scraped in terms of a pleasurable experience.

I was getting along okay with one of the docs I encountered when I first went into the hospital way back when. We were talking calmly about the lifestyle changes that would be necessary now that my kidneys had permanently reported to renal failure heaven.

And, aside from tossing a minor nutty when he told me that I'd have to restrict my intake of pizza, coke and potato chips, I was taking most of the news pretty well.

Then he suggested that I wouldn't be able to continue working and would have to go on disability.

"How's that again?" I asked.

"Well, working while you're on dialysis is difficult. A lot of people have to go on disability."

Now, in fairness the poor soul couldn't have known that I put a lot of time and effort into my education and building my career. Otherwise he surely would have delivered this message via carrier pigeon instead of in person.

"Ha ha ha. You're kidding me right? Did the people in my office put you up to this?" I asked.

He said, "No, I'm very serious. Between the schedule of long treatments and feeling poorly overall, dialysis can make it very difficult to work..."

Well, to put it mildly, our friendly little conversation then went south.

Big time.

I went on a complete diatribe. I insulted his education, background, qualifications, looks, intelligence, heritage, and anything else I could think of. This went on for, oh I don't know, maybe 20 to 30 minutes. The whole time the guy just stood there nodding.

I finished my rant by saying, "...and if you think I'm going on disability, you're a lot dumber than I think you are, and I think you're about as dumb as a bowl of spaghetti."

At that point, he apparently decided that he had had enough fun and turned to leave. "Uh, we'll talk about this another time," he said.

"Really? You want to bring this up again? Okay doc, it's a deal. In the meantime, I'll have a chance to think up some more insults. You want to schedule that now? Or you just want to bebop on in when you're feeling good about yourself and want to be brought back down to earth?"

He just rolled his eyes and went on about his business without answering me.

Later I was thinking, "Atta boy Bob. Get in good with the guy who's gonna be making decisions about your life and health."

Anyway, apparently the guy thought about discretion being the better part of valor and sent a kindly-looking older nurse in with forms for me to fill out to start the application process for going on disability.

He figured that even I wasn't nutzo enough to go off on a nice old lady.

Well, he was right. I calmly gave her the papers back and told her to tell the doc that he should file them wherever he was keeping his most current stool sample.

And that if he hadn't had one lately, then...well, you know what that means.

The nurse gave me a funny look, then left the room quickly.

Needless to say, I never went on disability and was able to continue my career. But I did see that doctor a few more times during my hospital stay, and he never brought the subject up again.

I will say that his approach wasn't quite as friendly as our first meeting, but I thought that was understandable.

Now, one might think that one would learn a bit of a lesson from an off-center interaction like that and, as people around me suggested, approach such situations with an olive branch instead of a baseball bat.

One would also be wrong.

My PCP, who I got along with surprisingly well, wanted me to go to an eye doctor and he gave me a referral.

"Geez, I don't know doc," I said. "Another doctor? Not sure my stomach can take the strain. Or my heart..."

He just laughed and said I should humor him. "Renal failure patients are at risk for retinopathy, cataracts, and glaucoma."

I said, "C'mon now. You're just saying that to get on my good side."

He laughed again. It was good (and rare) to be around someone who kind of got my humor.

So, I begrudgingly went to see this eye doctor.

He was a real haughty type with no hint of a sense of humor. Now, again, I'll admit that this type of person normally brings about my worst behavior.

Regardless of what they do for a living.

He walked in the room and started studying my chart without saying a word. The nurse who took down my information was with him.

Then he turned and looked at me as if he just realized I was in the room.

"What's up doc?" I said.

The nurse suppressed a smile, but the clueless doctor just acted like I didn't say anything.

The guy had a protruding belly the size of a baby walrus that was straining the front of his shirt. I probably didn't exactly endear myself to him when I mumbled something like, "Whoa. Hope I'm not standing in front of you when those buttons go off." Again, he pretended like he hadn't heard anything.

"Soooo," he said, his eyes back to being planted on the chart. "Kidney failure? I see you have kidney failure. Is that right."

I said, "Man, you can tell just by looking at me? You're good."

He gave me his best uncomprehending look and then went back to the chart.

At this point, I was reminding myself to try to behave but he wasn't making it easy.

"Let's have a looksee," he said.

I had a couple of dozen wise retorts running through my mind but I managed to keep them all to myself.

The guy was scoping out my eyes, making noise like, "Uh huh. Uh huh..."

Then he asked, "Do you have any trouble seeing out of the corner of your eyes?"

Before I could catch myself, I said, "Nope. Wife swung a fry pan the other night and I had it all the way. Ha ha ha..."

The nurse laughed but the doc was just looking at me completely straight faced.

I figured I'd better help him out. "No, just kidding doc."

"Ah," he said. Then he went to write something on my chart.

Then I heard myself say, "Fact is, she's so fast with that fry pan that if she did swing it, I'd never see it coming."

The nurse laughed again, which earned her a dirty look from the doctor.

So, he continued his exam and I thought he sounded a little disappointed that he couldn't find anything wrong.

He took out a little recorder and started talking into it. He began with my personal information. Then he ripped off a bunch of medical terms that I didn't understand.

I nodded at his recorder. "Does that thing come with a translator?" I asked with a smile.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Never mind."

Then he asked if I had any questions as he was booking it toward the door.

I thought for a second, then I blurted out a "Yeah," interrupting his hasty exit.

I said, "Did you hear about the guy who went to the doctor and said 'Doc, I've eaten something that disagrees with me.' Then his stomach says, 'No you didn't.' Ha ha ha."

The nurse covered her mouth with her hand, but the doctor just shook his head and left the room.

So, I recognize that I may have done more than my share to precipitate the problems I've had with doctors.

Maybe someday, I'll even figure a way to do something about it...

Thanks for reading. Take care.