So, as of an hour ago, we’ve had ten calls from the urologist’s office in three days, just on the land line, which is the only one they’re supposed to have a number for. Somehow they got the number for my business-only cellular phone, which about six people have the number for, and they started hammering that, too. I don’t answer calls on that, other than for the handful of people already in the dialing directory.
First incoming call this morning: panic over the blood work. Same numbers as normal for keto. They want me to see a nephrologist about it. I told them to go ahead and set me up. My primary doc couldn’t get my insurance to cover a nephrologist, maybe they can. Also, they wanted me to see an endocrinologist about some of the other blood results. Good; I wanted to talk to the endo about my TRT dose anyway. They’re supposed to fax everything over to her to look at. Also, they were checking to make sure I was taking the antibiotics they’d prescribed before the cytoscopy procedure. First I’d heard about any antibiotics. I told them I’d check with the pharmacy. I got about 75% of what the woman said; the connection sucked hard. So much for all-digital VOIP.
First outgoing call: pharmacy. I have *two* prescriptions, one called in last week, which I was supposed to have already finished taking, and a new one called in this morning, which I was supposed to have started day before yesterday. O rly? Apparently I was supposed to "just know" I had some prescriptions waiting. I swung by a bit later to pick them up, and the pharmacist was telling me I could just go to Aisle 14 for laxatives, I didn’t have to buy them at the pharmacy counter. Uh, what? Oops, despite having asked for my name and DOB seconds before, they had pulled up the wront patient.
Second incoming call: my wife took it while I was out. Make sure I’m there tomorrow at 1330 for the bladder ultrasound. What bladder ultrasound? They did one last week; tomorrow strangers were supposed to jam a probe up my naughty bits to look inside my bladder. She had to call them back.
Second outgoing call: WTF? Oh, they had changed their minds; they were going to run another ultrasound, and then they’d decide if they wanted to schedule a *third* visit for a cytoscopy.
I don’t like these people, and I didn’t want to go back to them, having had a bad experience with that clinic in 2018. In fact, when the doc wanted to send me out for a urology referral, I made a point of specifying "anyone but those assholes." But they’re the only urologists in the area, and my insurance doesn’t want to deal with any of the ones in other towns, apparently. So I had to go back to them.
As I get older my tolerance for fuckuppery has diminished substantially. Well, at least they’re consistent, they’re still fuckups.