Doctor, may I put my pants back on?
Did you know that to properly examine a hand, one's pantaloons must be removed?
I recently went to see a vascular doctor about something potentially wrong with my hand. A vein in the palm was raised a little. My family doctor, who I'd first asked about this, suggested I have a vascular doctor look at it since I was concerned enough to bring it up. Sure, why not? The appointment was set, I'd gotten my new patient paperwork in the mail to fill it out in advance and bring with me, and I just had to wait for the day to come.
Soon enough, it's appointment day. I find the vascular doctors' office easily and arrive early. Good start.
In the lobby, I turn in the paperwork and quickly check in. Nice and easy.
I'm called back promptly at my appointment time. Excellent.
The nurses assistant is in the exam room moments later taking my blood pressure and checking my personal information. This is all so efficient!
As the N.A. prepares to leave the room, she says, "Okay, you'll need to remove your pants and your shoes. Here's something to cover up with, and a cloth to put your feet on." Say what?
"Take off my pants?"
"Yes."
"For my hand to be examined?"
"Um, since you're a new patient, they'll want to just check out your legs, too."
"...Ooo-kay." A pause, then, "I wasn't prepared for this! I didn't shave this morning!"
I shed my pants and sit in my underroos with a paper hospital robe across my legs and my freezing feet on the little white towel to protect them from the cold of the tile floor. And I sit. And I wait. I cross my legs and tuck my icy feet underneath me. I wait some more. I rearrange my cover--the arm holes in the robe are letting in a draft. And then I keep sitting. I think that they make us pay the copay at check-in to keep us from leaving--and it's working. And then I keep waiting.
After what felt like ages, but was really 30 minutes, the ARNP, Rachel, comes in. She does not apologize for the wait, and I'm glad, because it would have been a lie. They're never sorry for the wait. We know this. Otherwise they wouldn't schedule twice as many people as nurses for a single appointment time. I had decided that whenever someone finally came in, if they apologized for the wait, I would resist the natural urge to say, "That's alright." Because that, too, would have been a lie. (I planned to smile pleasantly, but say nothing.) Saving us both the trouble of that over-played charade, she greeted me in a very friendly manner, introduced herself, and said, "So we had down that you're here about your legs, but you say it's your hand?"
I confirm that I'm there for my hand, holding it out as if she wouldn't know what I meant without showing her what a hand was. I then remember she's an ARNP and probably very familiar with the intricacies of the human body, including what a "hand" is, and put it back in my lap.
"Okay, I'm just going to check you out, here...," and she starts making sure I have a pulse and am breathing--the usual stuff. Then, she seems to consider that I've been sitting there with a paper hospital robe across my lap and says, "And since you're here..." (translated, I think, to, "Since they told you to to take your pants off, I guess I'd better at least check your legs...") and she quickly checks my legs for circulation (without even removing the cover). As cold as my feet were, I'm surprised they didn't schedule emergency circulation surgery.
She then gets on to the business of looking at my hand and, thankfully, tells me it's nothing at all serious, to "just leave well enough alone" unless it becomes much worse. Hooray!
I'm told I don't need a follow-up; maybe I should use some gloves when I work out to protect the hand; and I can check out and have a nice day! The visit ended with that good news and my great relief that the little vein wouldn't be the death of me.
And with my pants being quickly put back on.
I hope my hand stays in decent condition, but if I ever have to go back, I'll remember to shave my legs first.
I recently went to see a vascular doctor about something potentially wrong with my hand. A vein in the palm was raised a little. My family doctor, who I'd first asked about this, suggested I have a vascular doctor look at it since I was concerned enough to bring it up. Sure, why not? The appointment was set, I'd gotten my new patient paperwork in the mail to fill it out in advance and bring with me, and I just had to wait for the day to come.
Soon enough, it's appointment day. I find the vascular doctors' office easily and arrive early. Good start.
In the lobby, I turn in the paperwork and quickly check in. Nice and easy.
I'm called back promptly at my appointment time. Excellent.
The nurses assistant is in the exam room moments later taking my blood pressure and checking my personal information. This is all so efficient!
As the N.A. prepares to leave the room, she says, "Okay, you'll need to remove your pants and your shoes. Here's something to cover up with, and a cloth to put your feet on." Say what?
"Take off my pants?"
"Yes."
"For my hand to be examined?"
"Um, since you're a new patient, they'll want to just check out your legs, too."
"...Ooo-kay." A pause, then, "I wasn't prepared for this! I didn't shave this morning!"
I shed my pants and sit in my underroos with a paper hospital robe across my legs and my freezing feet on the little white towel to protect them from the cold of the tile floor. And I sit. And I wait. I cross my legs and tuck my icy feet underneath me. I wait some more. I rearrange my cover--the arm holes in the robe are letting in a draft. And then I keep sitting. I think that they make us pay the copay at check-in to keep us from leaving--and it's working. And then I keep waiting.
After what felt like ages, but was really 30 minutes, the ARNP, Rachel, comes in. She does not apologize for the wait, and I'm glad, because it would have been a lie. They're never sorry for the wait. We know this. Otherwise they wouldn't schedule twice as many people as nurses for a single appointment time. I had decided that whenever someone finally came in, if they apologized for the wait, I would resist the natural urge to say, "That's alright." Because that, too, would have been a lie. (I planned to smile pleasantly, but say nothing.) Saving us both the trouble of that over-played charade, she greeted me in a very friendly manner, introduced herself, and said, "So we had down that you're here about your legs, but you say it's your hand?"
I confirm that I'm there for my hand, holding it out as if she wouldn't know what I meant without showing her what a hand was. I then remember she's an ARNP and probably very familiar with the intricacies of the human body, including what a "hand" is, and put it back in my lap.
"Okay, I'm just going to check you out, here...," and she starts making sure I have a pulse and am breathing--the usual stuff. Then, she seems to consider that I've been sitting there with a paper hospital robe across my lap and says, "And since you're here..." (translated, I think, to, "Since they told you to to take your pants off, I guess I'd better at least check your legs...") and she quickly checks my legs for circulation (without even removing the cover). As cold as my feet were, I'm surprised they didn't schedule emergency circulation surgery.
She then gets on to the business of looking at my hand and, thankfully, tells me it's nothing at all serious, to "just leave well enough alone" unless it becomes much worse. Hooray!
I'm told I don't need a follow-up; maybe I should use some gloves when I work out to protect the hand; and I can check out and have a nice day! The visit ended with that good news and my great relief that the little vein wouldn't be the death of me.
And with my pants being quickly put back on.
I hope my hand stays in decent condition, but if I ever have to go back, I'll remember to shave my legs first.
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