The rain is Tess, the fire Joe

It was a chilly February evening when the phone rang. My wife and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. Neither of us were expecting a call so we were both confused and annoyed. In the evening, we try to make time for each other and block out the interferences that the outside world throw out.

Prior to the phone call, we went to the doctor to try to get a variety of things check on. We sat in the obligatory lobby for the appropriate amount of time (at least according to their staff), and waited in the equally obligatory cold waiting room for the doctor to grace us with his presence for an equally appropriate amount of time.

Blood work was ordered, antibiotics were authorized and many other concerns were addressed – including my addiction to nicotine. The chantix was ordered and picked up and the vampires took their requisite liquid in order to run my lipid panels and a variety of other tests.

It was gleeful.

When the blood test came back, the Physician's Assistant called my house.

Me: Hello?
PA: Yes, this is Michelle from Doctor Ho's office. Am I speaking with Gary?
Me: Yes.
PA: We've received the results of your blood tests and your glucose levels are really high, you may have diabetes.
Me: ...
PA: You need to come into the doctor's office this week.
Me: ...
PA: Hello?
Me: I can't guarantee that I can come in this week. I work.
PA: The doctor needs to advise you, this is pretty serious.
Me: ...
PA: Mr. Weller?
Me: Really, you're giving me this over the phone? I'll see what I can do.
PA: Well, do this as soon as possible.
Me: Yeah.


To be fair, I don't remember exactly how the conversation went, but this is how I remember it.

I was angry that the PA told me over the phone about this potentially life-threatening disease that apparently came from out of nowhere. I was mad that I had to make another obligatory appointment with an equally expensive co-payment from the doctor's office in order for me to get told about my diabetes.
I made the inconvenient appointment. The staff at the center tried to give me the brush-off and schedule the appointment in two weeks.

Two weeks? Really? WTF?

I had let the scheduling staff know that I was just diagnosed with a potentially life-threatening disease. They were appropriately shocked at my candor and equally apologetic and concerned for my condition. They schedule me in an ’emergency’ slot within the week.

The time came and my wife and I were in queue to speak to the receptionist. The insurance had just changed. So, even though we were early, the staff at the desk had some sort of inability to understand the sense of urgency that both my wife and I were expressing. They also seemed to have an inability to double check their work. On one of the invoices, they had spelled my name incorrectly which started an appropriately concerned response with an equally slow response time in setting up another invoice with my correctly spelled name.

When we finally were able to see the doctor, it was akin to being in a surreal Asian-flavored game show. I remember the doctor rushing into the waiting room and issuing an appropriate apology because he was rushed to make a meeting and giving me an equally stereotypically Asian declaration, “You have diabetes!”

The only thing that came to mind was a line that Lee Marvin delivered in Paint Your Wagon, “Howdy Parson, welcome to HELL!”