Now, I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before, but the symptoms stroke patients suffer include memory lapses, confusion, mobility issues, and rage (and particularly, confusion regarding the use of the oxford comma). Unfortunately, every fucking idiot out there who deserves to die seems to disregard these issues, as the past couple of days amply illustrate. Today started with Ranjan calling to get a number for Dr. Ho, so he can get a script for my out patient therapy back at the hospital. And since he was only assigned by them in the first place, he figured he should ask the stroke patient for the details. I provide them.
This reminded me that I still needed to set up my four-week follow up appointments with [deep breath] Drs. Ho, Perch and Budd. Now, this may require a flow chart, but I called (1) the number I was given for these doctors at discharge. The person at this number (2) told me that they didn’t schedule appointments for these doctors, and gave me a second number. The person at the second number (3) also told me she couldn’t help me, and gave me a third number. The person at the third number obviously (4) couldn’t help, and referred me back to the first number I called. Just for shits and giggles, I gave that number a second shot since, after all, they’d handled every other call I had for Dr. Ho, but they flatly denied they could do anything for me. I gave up in disgust, and e-mailed someone at the hospital with an actual name with a plea for help. She was nice enough to give me her direct number and take my call, but it turns out that doctors, like hair stylists and art galleries, don’t do Mondays, the day on which I wanted my appointments (so I could get the help I needed with my mobility). By this time, I’d been on the phone for fifty minutes, and was (a) furious, (b) confused, (c) unable to even remember who all my bloody doctors were and (d) highly unlikely to be able to get any help to get to my appointment. Five bucks says my blood pressure was through the roof, too. Well done, everybody!