Tuesday, February 5, 2008

I can hear you now...

I've had a cough for the past three weeks that won't go away. I'm probably dying, as usual. Nancy started her job, so we now have real insurance. After a week of trying to figure out what doctor to choose, several calls to the insurance's 800 number, and figuring out how the fuck to the insurance actually works I made an appointment with a doctor.

It was a female doctor, and I generally like male doctors, because they can carry me when I faint after being told I have ass cancer. Seriously, I do get woozey at the docs office. I have been know to turn pasty white and start to black out. I'm the biggest pussy I know. BTW the sentence in BOLD is wide open for someone to make a great comeback in the comments section. I know the correct one, and if any of you get it right I'll give you a gold star. Sam? Dicky? Aaron? Tom? Is this thing on?

Back to the story, I arrive 5 minutes early to the doctors office. The appointment was for 1:30pm. I enter only to be greeted by an empty waiting room and no receptionist. For the next 15 minutes, I don't see or hear anyone. I start to get a little worried. Finally a really nice receptions pops up behind the desk and takes my info and gives me some stuff to fill out. FYI I love checking the no box under "nipple excretion". After 5 minutes I'm told that my brand new insurance card says my insurance has been canceled. I hate this shit.

It's now 1:58pm. I call Nancy because I'm cripplingly retarded and shy in this sort of human contact situation. She tells me to call the insurance company. I do and go through the ridiculous automated system until I finally get to talk to someone. He straightens it out. Meanwhile THREE other people have gone in to see the doctor, including a chic that was there for a 2 o'clock appointment. I was freaking there 5 minutes early, no other patients were there for 20 minutes, and my appointment time had past by 45 minutes at this point. I was getting very annoyed, but I get annoyed at most things.

Finally at around 2:30 I get in to see the doc. They take my blood pressure and it is a little high, no shit. My temp is normal, but I weigh more than a Beluga whale. I'm sent to the little examination room. The doctor finally shows up around 3pm.

She's really nice and checks me out. She looks in my ears and says, "I can't see your ear drums." Which sends my horrible doomsday imagination into a tale spin of inflamed tumors, death and dismemberment. I start to feel light headed and cold sweaty. She hasn't said anything bad and I'm already thinking about what I want on my tombstone.

She leaves the room and comes back with this little plastic tooth pick looking thing that lights up. It looks like something you'd take to a rave. She says she's going to clean out my ears. She proceeds to jam this thing in my head. The scarping begins and a minute later she produces one of the biggest, nastiest looking balls of brown congealed wax I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot of balls of brown congealed wax. It was awesome and gross at the say time, like kissing your hot cousin. I was happy to have it out so I could hear better, but that was pretty much shot, because the doctor yelled "Eureka" after she pulled it out, forgetting her face was an inch from my now clean ear.

The other ear wasn't as easy and hurt a bit. Sure enough after about three minutes of spelunking, she pulled out another colossal sized ear wax ball. This one had hair in it as well. I wanted to ask to keep them to show Nancy, but I didn't want to freak out my new doctor. I'll save that for my physical.

The craziest part is the doc said cleaning my ears might help cure the cough. She prescribed an inhaler, but told me to wait 2 days to see if ,in fact, the cough subsides. Only time will tell.

On my way out, I paid the co-pay, which I found out that night was only 10 bucks, but they charged me 25, so now I have to call and ask for my 15 bucks back. I hate shit like that.

I got my parking ticket validated and headed to the Fit. I stopped at the booth to leave the parking lot and handed my validated parking ticket to the woman. I get ready to leave free and clear, when I hear from my left side, "That'll be a dollar fifty". At first I wanted to say, "But it's validated, it should be free." But I confusedly start to looking for money. Literally all I have is a dollar.

She then says, as if it is supposed to make me feel better about paying an irronious ammount of cash, that it would have been $7.50. That did not make me feel at better.

She asks if I have a check book. No shit, she wants me to write a check for a dollar fifty. I don't have any checks, so she makes me fill out a form. For 50 fucking cents. What a bitch. Meanwhile some poor sap has to wait behind me to leave while I fill out this retarded form.

Unfortunately I'm very honest and I actually put my real info on the form. I should have made up some bullshit name and address. Oh well.

Is it just me or does validated mean free? Has anyone out there ever had this happen to them. I've never experienced the "Validating Coupon" before, but I feel like I've grown as a person because of it.

I can hear molecules bumping into each other! STOP IT! THE NOISE IS KILLING ME!

4 comments:

dicky van tastic said...

When I read the pussy comment, I immediately thought, No, you're not the biggest pussy, but you have the biggest pussy I know.., and a man is what he eats...:)

Nick Gibbons said...

The second one was the right comeback. You win a gold star!

Sam said...

Ok, I don't get the gold star, but if you're a big pussy, what size tampons do you use?

BTW don't you have fuckin Q-tips? I clean my ears almost every freakin day. You dirty bastard.

Good job on being first Dicky. I mean I was only at work and not able to perch at my computer hitting refresh until Nick posts a new blog entry.

About the job thing, can't you flip some burgers or something?

Nick Gibbons said...

I use Q-Tips as well, but I think they actually compact that shit down in there, like loading a musket, only I can't shoot out my ear wax and kill a British colonial solder.