Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News...

I love my family doctor. I love him, his wife (the office manager/head nurse), and the entire staff at his office. Why do I love him? So many reasons! I love his accent. He sounds like he just arrived from Ireland. He’s straightforward. Very straightforward. He is direct and clear without having that obnoxious, condescending, superiority complex that some other doctors have. He is respectful of his patients’ time. All in all, he provides excellent service and that’s why I’m writing about it here.

When I go to Dr. Patrick O’Neill’s office, I am seen promptly. I have never waited more than five minutes in his waiting room. That’s nearly unbelievable to me. A five minute wait at a doctor’s office? I’ve never had a doctor like that. Part of it, I’m sure, has to do with the signs posted informing patients that refills and such need to be requested during your office visit with an explanation that time spent calling in prescriptions takes away from other patients’ time.

The staff who handle the preliminary stuff (weight, temp, symptoms, etc.) are quick yet thorough. They’re friendly. They’re not too friendly. Too friendly medical technicians kind of give me the creeps.

When Dr. O’Neill comes in, he’s already read the chart. He asks questions, gives his thoughts, orders any necessary tests, asks if you have questions and is gone. Office visits are quick. Normally, this would bother me. I’d feel like the doctor didn’t care or didn’t have time for me. Feeling like you’re a nuisance to your doctor is not going to build any trust. I go in with a list. If there’s anything I need to discuss with him, I mention it when he walks in the door. He sits down and takes the time to talk. I love that. He doesn’t waste mine or his time when it’s not necessary. He has all the time in the world when it is.

The past few weeks have been difficult. I’d been reading email on Father’s Day when I felt a “pop” in my back. I wasn’t even moving when it happened, let alone stretching, twisting, or lifting. I was in agony. Not knowing what was wrong, I went to a highly recommended local chiropractor. Most of what she did was helpful and eased my pain. However, after my second visit with her, I was in so much pain I was crying. This is unusual for me as I have a very high pain tolerance. It was around 6 p.m. so my doctor was closed and, surprise!, the chiropractor couldn’t prescribe anything for pain. I took a chance and called Dr. O’Neill’s office. I got his service and they said they’d pass the message to him. He called back with in minutes. When he heard what happened, he immediately called in a few necessary prescriptions and told me to come in the next morning. It wasn’t a problem. As much as he respects time, he didn’t seem to mind my interrupting his time. Sure, he’s a doctor and being “on call” for your patients is part of the gig but he’s also a human. I get miffed when I get called in when I’m off work.

Pain meds, anti-inflammatory meds, and steroids were the plan along with rest and a warning. Now, this warning wasn’t clear to me at first. I think we expect certain words from certain people. Perhaps it’s wrong to generalize but I’d never expect a nun or my grandmother to use foul language. I don’t expect toddlers to use multi-syllabic words. I don’t expect multi-syllabic words from my ex-husband, either, but that’s just rude and I probably shouldn’t have “said” it. I wouldn’t expect slang from my high school English teacher. So, when my wonderful doctor with his strong Irish accent gave me this warning, my brain failed to understand what he said at first. I had to ask him to repeat himself. You must, while reading this warning, do it with a heavy brogue. Okay, ready?

“If ya pee your pants or crap yourself, call me right away! That’s a surgical emergency!”

“Crap yourself” is not a phrase I ever expected to hear from my doctor and I got to hear it twice. I was stunned into silence. Those of you who know me in the world outside of blogging are shocked by this. I know! I was, too! I am rarely speechless. The speechlessness lasted until I was outside in the truck. There, I giggled and giggled and giggled. I nearly wet my pants. Hey, I’m “of a certain age,” you know. Stuff like that happens. I did not crap myself.

When, after several days, the pain increased, the good doctor sent me for two MRIs. Even though my insurance company has been hesitant about approving MRIs, Dr. O’Neill’s wife convinced them to approve two of them. Dr. O’Neill had my results the same day. The same day! Seems, I’d torn two disks in my lower back and have some narrowing of my spinal column in my upper back/neck. This is extremely painful. He spent the next day trying to get me in with a spine specialist/surgeon. I’ve heard from other people that it takes up to six weeks to get in with a spine doctor in this area if you aren’t already a patient. Dr. O’Neill got me in with Dr. Parker, a very highly regarded local back surgeon, the next day.

This is just one example of why I love my doctor. He cares about his patients. He provides excellent service. With my insurance premiums and office co-pays, I’m happy to pay for that.