Actually at this very moment as I’m typing this it’s 6:21AM.
But song lyrics as post titles and all that…
I finally have my follow up with Dr. Brain next week.
You know…TWELVE WEEKS after my EEG.
But let’s rewind…
I got a bill for the MRI (from March) and 2/5 of the 5-day EEG. Because Park Nicollet’s billing system makes a whole lot of sense. Bob took it away from me before I could open it and hid it until he could take a moment to look at it first. His reaction was…not quiet.
Neither was mine.
Also mine was punctuated by expletives and rude gestures.
As I do.
I don’t think I need to repeat how I feel about Federated Insurance.
So I had to call the clinic and figure out who I was supposed to talk to. I ended up leaving a (most likely incoherent and ornery) voicemail for Dr. Brain’s nurse. She called me back hours later. (And then again…several times…over multiple days…kill me…)
… the EEG was completely clear. Even when I hit the big red button because I was smelling smoke. This is exactly what I was expecting to happen.
… It should have only taken 3 weeks for me to hear back from them. But they “have no way of tracking when results come in and who’s been contacted” so OOPS. Apparently nobody has a piece of paper and a pen at Park Nicollet Neurology.
Also “hasn’t [doctor I’ve never heard of] contacted you?”
No. I haven’t heard a damn thing from anybody and that’s why I’m talking to you now.
… In a nutshell, the EEG was clear so I need to see two more doctors. Because obvio—WHAT?
… And then my brain exploded negating any further need for any of this nonsense.
I’m turning into my mother. She’s notorious for medical afflictions nobody has ever heard of.
But you know. Whatever. Clearly I’m not committed to figuring this out anyway.
Instead I’ll just let Emerson Mouse take selfies with my phone.
Because he’s way cuter and fluffier than all of my f-bombs and other loud expletives.
You know what else is way cuter than this train wreck?
Bob.
Always.
Also Marc Roberge.
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Catching Sunlight O.A.R. |