Lately, I’ve been receiving a lot of messages from my doctor’s office. They text, email, and call, eager to connect. They want to thank me for visiting and ask my opinion about the visit. As a former healthcare administrator, I know what they’re doing. The surveys are part of the practice’s quality performance measurement and tied to bonus compensation and insurance reimbursement. But does the office really care about what I think? Is it worth my time to even tell them? Will they ever see my feedback? And if I’m honest with them, will I be vanquished to never-never land—a place where you’re unable to schedule an appointment, or worse, where you’re forced to wait weeks and weeks before you can get in to see the doctor?
Do You Really Want to Know What I’m Thinking?
When I last visited the doctor, no one seemed particularly happy to see me. They didn’t know my name. They didn’t seem to be expecting me. But then, the office contends with hundreds of patients. I’m just a cog in the wheel. Or could it be that the office staff is just reacting to my overall demeanor? I’m not smiling. I’m not a smiler, especially at a doctor’s appointment. Smiling and worrying, at least to me, are mutually exclusive activities. Now, don’t get me wrong. Everyone in the office is polite, at least up until the moment I get on the scale to measure my weight. I’m not a fan of the scale. I think it makes a terrible first impression. And as I empty my pockets of keys, wallet, and phone, I inform the office staff that my sneakers weigh at least 5 lbs, the same sneaky 5 lbs I haven’t been able to shake since the last time I stepped on the scale. Any scale. But, of course, I’m no longer wearing sneakers because I’ve already kicked those suckers off before stepping on the scale. I think it’s rude when the medical assistant points this out.
Put Up Your Dukes
The scale always catches me off guard. Puts me back on my heels. I feel forced to defend myself. If I ever saw a number lower than expected, I’d rejoice, certain I’d finally found an accurate scale. I might even treat the office staff to cupcakes. But that doesn’t happen. In fact, based on my experience and the many scales that I’ve been forced to step on, I’m certain every doctor’s scale needs to be recalibrated. And as the scale reveals my weight, I have two thoughts. Should I cry out, “I just ate.” Or perhaps, “I’ve been constipated for a week.” Of course, neither shout-out would be true. I eat whatever I like, whenever I like (which is often), and my bowel habits are as regular as a clock. Is that TMI?
But Back to the Doctor’s Office
So now you know more than you ever wanted to know. But did you know that I have a new novel out? It’s true. Friends for A Season is finally here. It’s been three long years of work, and I have to say, I’m proud of it. Not the work. The novel. The work, well, I could do without all that stress and struggle. They do say (whoever they are) that the best part of achieving success is the journey. I’ll let you know if that’s true as soon as the success arrives. I’ve been carefully watching for its arrival for years now. But, while I’m bragging (or was I complaining—it’s so hard to know the difference), let me share some of the early quotes from strangers on NetGalley who have reviewed the novel:
“I have never heard of this author, but…I loved reading his Friends for A Season.”
“I loved every minute of reading this story, and I think others will love it too.”
“I will and have already recommended this book to friends and family.”
Gee, that makes me smile! So, if you’re looking for something new to read, please check out Friends for A Season. It’s just a click away. And until we next meet, good luck with tax day. I hope you have a refund coming!
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