Dr. Raj and friends
I went to the doctor today to refer me to an orthopedic surgeon for my food.
I had to see a general practitioner because my dad's insurance changed on the 1st to Kaiser. I don't really care what it is as long as it is free for me but in this instance the change means that I have to start back from square one. The doctor I saw today was very nice and gave me a flu shot as a bonus. She also did exactly as I requested and "rediagnosed" the broken foot (yeah, they actually made her rediagnose me...) Then she gave me lots o' pain meds and sent me on my merry way.
I think part of the reason I liked her so much was that she was Indian (Name: Dr. Raj) and we watched a very cute and funny movie recently which was set in India. It gave the whole thing a positive spin. The movie, by the way, is called Outsourced and I recommend it to everyone.
From Dr. Raj I also got a referral to the Kaiser fracture clinic (I picture it like a really swanky club where you have to know important people like Dr. Raj just to get in.) They were only going to see me "sometime in the next two weeks" but after several calls I got them to schedule me for Monday morning. Yes! The worst part about this whole thing is the waiting and waiting and waiting. I'm crossing my fingers that scheduling surgery will be equally painless but I'm not entirely optimistic.
From the Kaiser offices my mom and I (she's my taxi of late when Shari is working or otherwise unavailable) went down to the local Multnomah county DHS to look into getting food stamps for me since my income is so reduced. Of course the office I found online was the wrong office to go to but it wasn't all bad because the desk person there was very nice and found me the right place to go and called ahead so they would expect me and no make me wait on my gimpy foot all afternoon.
This is where the day takes a turn for the worst...
When I finally arrived at the correct DHS office and tell the lady at the counter who I am, that I called ahead, etc. she acts like I am being so presumptuous and says that I have to take a number just like the rest of the people here and there is no way to "jump the line." So I sat and waited. And waited. And waited. And an hour and a half later they called the number a few before mine and I started to pay attention. So when they called some numbers (including mine) in quick succession, I got up and made my slow, gimpy way to the front. By the time I got there they had passed my number. I gave the lady my ticket and explained but she said it was too late and I was responsible for getting to the front when my name was called like anyone else. I didn't know what to do and she told me to take another ticket and wait again. At this point I was almost in tears from the frustration of it all and my foot hurting and her being SO RUDE and I knew I wouldn't get called before the cut-off time so I just left. I'll have to try again on Monday.
Now I'm home and off my foot and no longer upset about the whole thing. But I still think that she could have been slightly more understanding!