Well hello there! Another pause in my updates, but this time a legitimate one - I was on holiday! The lovely boyfriend and I went glamping in Cornwall. We stayed in a yurt, it was pretty epic.
I had an appointment with the endocrinologists last Thursday. That sentence makes it sound so simple - but of course, before I could get to see a doctor I had to first negotiate the administrative no-man's land that encircles my endocrinologists as though they were a small patch of strategically valuable land just south of Ypres. Their administrative systems certainly appear to be about a hundred years old.
On my return from my holiday, I was expecting a letter from the hospital informing me that I had an appointment at the end of July. What I got was a letter from the hospital informing me that I had an appointment at the end of October. As I had just had a full round of blood tests in preparation for the putative end-of-July appointment, this seemed even more stupid than usual.
So, of course, I telephoned them. And discovered that the usual method of getting hold of anyone at the hospital (dial number; doggedly hold onto receiver while it rings 40~ times; hang up and try again later) had been changed to an even more infuriating system, whereby the phone will only ring three times before you are transferred back to an automated message informing you that "This extension does not answer" and requesting that you dial 1 to try again, or 2 to leave a message. After three doses of this eerily robotic speech, I gave up and left a message. Like some kind of naïve idiot.
Obviously I didn't hear back from them, so I called again and again and after dialling 1 so repeatedly that I feared breaking the button, I reached a human. I introduced myself and mentioned that I had left a message. She said "Oh yes, Emer, I have your message right here actually." I said, "Ok, great."
Then there was a long pause.
Eventually she said "So, how can I help you?"
"How about by DEALING WITH THE ISSUE I CLEARLY EXPLAINED IN MY MESSAGE?" was what I did not shout at her, because I am used to this by now and understand that the endocrine admin staff believe that actually responding to messages dilutes the soul.
Anyway, I repeated everything I'd said and she informed me that a number of appointments for July and August had been pushed back to October (no, no-one deigned to explain why), and I could not possibly get another appointment before that date. It took quite a bit of arguing, and pointing out that I was currently taking a medication (hydrocortisone) which was quite possibly medically unnecessary but which I would have to continue to take until I saw an endocrinologist to get the results of my latest synacthen test, to get passed to the booking manager. Then I had to go through it all again but eventually she offered me a cancelled appointment in two days time.
I had intended this post to be about the results of that appointment, but it looks like we'll have to save that joy for another day. I do feel a great sense of post-rant relief however! Phew!
Showing posts with label receptionist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label receptionist. Show all posts
Thursday, 25 July 2013
Thursday, 31 May 2012
Progress Report
Long time no post! In fact, I returned from my holiday a week ago and have just been lazy incredibly busy and productive.
I am in fact on study leave from work at the moment, so technically I should be drawing a big spider diagram using my favourite set of coloured pens right now,* but as I have one heck of a pituitary tumour headache right now I am slacking off to write this message to my adoring public. Whoop whoop!
It has now been four weeks since my last trip to the hospital, when my endocrinologists told me they would call me in "a couple of days" to arrange an overnight stay filled with fun metabolic tests and delicious hospital food. They have still not called me, although I have called them twice and both times spoken to a receptionist who could not help beyond sending a note to the relevant doctors. I would be less annoyed about this if it weren't for the fact that I have to stay off my medication until they get these bloody tests done and consequently all my symptoms (fast heartrate, shaky hands, hair falling out, etc etc) have been worsening slightly.
The worst of the worsenings has been how hungry I have been getting! Oh my god. It is deeply irritating! I can tell my metabolism has gone up because I am just so darn peckish all the time. It sounds stupid but it's really annoying to live with.
Anyway, I realise that this is basically a super dull post, so I will end it here. Hurrah!
_____________________________________________________
*Not a joke. I do this.
I am in fact on study leave from work at the moment, so technically I should be drawing a big spider diagram using my favourite set of coloured pens right now,* but as I have one heck of a pituitary tumour headache right now I am slacking off to write this message to my adoring public. Whoop whoop!
It has now been four weeks since my last trip to the hospital, when my endocrinologists told me they would call me in "a couple of days" to arrange an overnight stay filled with fun metabolic tests and delicious hospital food. They have still not called me, although I have called them twice and both times spoken to a receptionist who could not help beyond sending a note to the relevant doctors. I would be less annoyed about this if it weren't for the fact that I have to stay off my medication until they get these bloody tests done and consequently all my symptoms (fast heartrate, shaky hands, hair falling out, etc etc) have been worsening slightly.
The worst of the worsenings has been how hungry I have been getting! Oh my god. It is deeply irritating! I can tell my metabolism has gone up because I am just so darn peckish all the time. It sounds stupid but it's really annoying to live with.
Anyway, I realise that this is basically a super dull post, so I will end it here. Hurrah!
_____________________________________________________
*Not a joke. I do this.
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
*Censored* (A Rant)
Oh god, I hate hospital administration systems.
Two weeks ago, I went to the hospital. My doctors wanted to keep me off my medication for 6 weeks, despite the fact that this would worsen my symptoms, so that they could run some tests and do some scans while it was out of my system. They said they would arrange for one of their research people to call me and arrange the tests. I pointed out whilst I was standing right there with them that as I have exams and a holiday coming up, there would be some dates I couldn't do, but that I could write these dates down and hand them over immediately so as not to waste time.
No, they said, that's fine. I would get a telephone call in the next couple of days, no worries.
Two weeks later, no bloody telephone call, and I'm going on holiday for a week tomorrow. I don't have a number I can speak to any of them on directly, the best I can do is call one of the doctors' receptionist, who is only in for three mornings a week. So I called her yesterday morning and left a message pointing out that if they wanted to arrange these tests before I left, they would need to get their freaking act together.*
Today at lunchtime I managed to miss the receptionist returning my call. There were no apologies for the massive delay; she left a message saying there was no prospect of getting me booked in today and that I should call back on my return from holiday. There was also no explanation of how this went from being the hospital's responsibility to call me to being my responsibility to call the hospital.
Sadly, I am incapable of shouting swearwords at my phone loudly enough to make myself feel better.
It is so unbelievably frustrating that this seems to happen almost every time anything hospitacular has to be arranged. Oh, your surgery's postponed at the last minute. Oh, your surgery's now back on with less than 24 hours notice. Oh, your letter got lost in the mail. Oh, didn't I mention that you're going to be booked in for an overnight stay? Oh, your MRi appointment never got booked? Well there's no point in you sitting here in this neurosurgical aftercare appointment then! Bye!
This means that three weeks will have gone by before I get booked in for ANY of these arsemongering tests and scans. On my return from holiday, I have exams. Essentially, this "six week period off medication" just got extended to an "indefinite period until we can be bothered to get back to you, lol." They really have no clue how shitty it is to seesaw on and off taking this stuff. Every time I start/stop taking it, there's a bunch of side effects - it messes up my skin and appetite and stuff - on top of the symptoms I get anyway when I'm not on it (heart too fast, hair falling out, etc. etc).
In my now-lengthly experience, it seems that hospital doctors are completely clueless about the barrage of administration that patients have to maneuver through in order to ever actually see them. Once, a letter that was sent to me giving a time and date for an MRi scan was lost in the post. I knew I was expecting an appointment, so when I didn't get a letter, I called the endocrine department, the MRi department, the main hospital switchboard and even I think neurosurgery for good measure, to try to find out if an appointment had been booked. Everyone told me they had no idea, had no means of finding out, and no clue who I should speak to - except the MRI department, who told me that I definitely didn't have an MRi booked. About two months later, the letter eventually turned up, by which time I'd obviously missed it. At my next appointment with my endocrinologist, he actually attempted to give me a telling off for missing an appointment, and then clearly refused to believe me when I explained what happened.
Well, this has been a massive rant. I do feel slightly better. But I am still pissed off.
__________________________________________________
*Except obviously I was politer than that.
Two weeks ago, I went to the hospital. My doctors wanted to keep me off my medication for 6 weeks, despite the fact that this would worsen my symptoms, so that they could run some tests and do some scans while it was out of my system. They said they would arrange for one of their research people to call me and arrange the tests. I pointed out whilst I was standing right there with them that as I have exams and a holiday coming up, there would be some dates I couldn't do, but that I could write these dates down and hand them over immediately so as not to waste time.
No, they said, that's fine. I would get a telephone call in the next couple of days, no worries.
Two weeks later, no bloody telephone call, and I'm going on holiday for a week tomorrow. I don't have a number I can speak to any of them on directly, the best I can do is call one of the doctors' receptionist, who is only in for three mornings a week. So I called her yesterday morning and left a message pointing out that if they wanted to arrange these tests before I left, they would need to get their freaking act together.*
Today at lunchtime I managed to miss the receptionist returning my call. There were no apologies for the massive delay; she left a message saying there was no prospect of getting me booked in today and that I should call back on my return from holiday. There was also no explanation of how this went from being the hospital's responsibility to call me to being my responsibility to call the hospital.
Sadly, I am incapable of shouting swearwords at my phone loudly enough to make myself feel better.
It is so unbelievably frustrating that this seems to happen almost every time anything hospitacular has to be arranged. Oh, your surgery's postponed at the last minute. Oh, your surgery's now back on with less than 24 hours notice. Oh, your letter got lost in the mail. Oh, didn't I mention that you're going to be booked in for an overnight stay? Oh, your MRi appointment never got booked? Well there's no point in you sitting here in this neurosurgical aftercare appointment then! Bye!
This means that three weeks will have gone by before I get booked in for ANY of these arsemongering tests and scans. On my return from holiday, I have exams. Essentially, this "six week period off medication" just got extended to an "indefinite period until we can be bothered to get back to you, lol." They really have no clue how shitty it is to seesaw on and off taking this stuff. Every time I start/stop taking it, there's a bunch of side effects - it messes up my skin and appetite and stuff - on top of the symptoms I get anyway when I'm not on it (heart too fast, hair falling out, etc. etc).
In my now-lengthly experience, it seems that hospital doctors are completely clueless about the barrage of administration that patients have to maneuver through in order to ever actually see them. Once, a letter that was sent to me giving a time and date for an MRi scan was lost in the post. I knew I was expecting an appointment, so when I didn't get a letter, I called the endocrine department, the MRi department, the main hospital switchboard and even I think neurosurgery for good measure, to try to find out if an appointment had been booked. Everyone told me they had no idea, had no means of finding out, and no clue who I should speak to - except the MRI department, who told me that I definitely didn't have an MRi booked. About two months later, the letter eventually turned up, by which time I'd obviously missed it. At my next appointment with my endocrinologist, he actually attempted to give me a telling off for missing an appointment, and then clearly refused to believe me when I explained what happened.
Well, this has been a massive rant. I do feel slightly better. But I am still pissed off.
__________________________________________________
*Except obviously I was politer than that.
Thursday, 19 January 2012
Making The Drop
My Somatuline injection has been collected from the pharmacy (eventually; the poor pharmacist couldn't work out where it was for ages, because of course I forgot to mention that it would be in the fridge) and dropped off at the GP's surgery.
I have a great and enduring respect for medical receptionists, not least because two of my closest friends have worked as medical receptionists for some years, and there's no-one I'd rather have access to my private medical records. Nonetheless, every now and again one of the receptionists at my local GP's does cause me a certain amount of difficulty, which, I must emphasize, is no doubt due to her innate personality traits and not to her profession.
Disclaimer aside, the short story is that, despite my protestations that there was only one nurse at the GP's surgery who was trained to give me the injections and that therefore I should have the appointment with her, the receptionist booked me in to have the injection with another nurse because the first nurse was "away all week", insisting it would be fine because all the nurses are medically trained.* Against my better judgement, and despite saying that I would be happy to wait for the first nurse to return, I eventually gave in, knowing that if worst came to the worse, there are instructions inside the packet.
Fast forward to yesterday,when I went to drop off the lanreotide syringe at the GP's surgery; the first nurse happened to be in the reception when I arrived. On hearing that I was to have the injection with another nurse, she said she would have to explain the injection to her but more significantly was confused as to why I hadn't booked to have the injection with her in the first place seeing as she was only away for two days.
I was going to write up the long story, but I'm afraid it was even more boring.
In any case, the point is that next week my pituitary adenoma will receive a sudden shock when I have my first lanreotide injection, and I'm hoping that the symptoms caused by my pituitary tumor will finally subside. Here's hoping!
_________________________________________________________
*Of corse, this was news to me. I thought they were just people with a needle fetish who wandered in off the street.
I have a great and enduring respect for medical receptionists, not least because two of my closest friends have worked as medical receptionists for some years, and there's no-one I'd rather have access to my private medical records. Nonetheless, every now and again one of the receptionists at my local GP's does cause me a certain amount of difficulty, which, I must emphasize, is no doubt due to her innate personality traits and not to her profession.
Disclaimer aside, the short story is that, despite my protestations that there was only one nurse at the GP's surgery who was trained to give me the injections and that therefore I should have the appointment with her, the receptionist booked me in to have the injection with another nurse because the first nurse was "away all week", insisting it would be fine because all the nurses are medically trained.* Against my better judgement, and despite saying that I would be happy to wait for the first nurse to return, I eventually gave in, knowing that if worst came to the worse, there are instructions inside the packet.
Fast forward to yesterday,when I went to drop off the lanreotide syringe at the GP's surgery; the first nurse happened to be in the reception when I arrived. On hearing that I was to have the injection with another nurse, she said she would have to explain the injection to her but more significantly was confused as to why I hadn't booked to have the injection with her in the first place seeing as she was only away for two days.
I was going to write up the long story, but I'm afraid it was even more boring.
In any case, the point is that next week my pituitary adenoma will receive a sudden shock when I have my first lanreotide injection, and I'm hoping that the symptoms caused by my pituitary tumor will finally subside. Here's hoping!
_________________________________________________________
*Of corse, this was news to me. I thought they were just people with a needle fetish who wandered in off the street.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)