Awright... Here I sit, trying not to growl.
I have again been summoned by the Gods of The VA. Gotta leave here in a bit (2 hours early) in order to get a fargin parking spot for an 8:30 appt.
This is the level of care given dinged GI's, Pilgrims:
The doctor de jure (apparently) is unknown. Like the rest, probably gets paid about the same as a hairdresser. These "command performance" visits are so fargin stupid...
I will HAVE to have a mask on. It will be the "snot mask" <-- a life-sized color photo of a big gobba snot drooping down from each nostril. I will -- eventually -- be called in to see a dic doc I have never seen before, and he/she/zi will take my BP, ask if my meds have changed (they have), and tell me to come back next year.
That. Is. It.
OH-kay -- The update. Got there at 7:00 for the 8:30 appt. <-- necessary, or you have to take a fargin BUS from the parking lot to the VA building. I had a book and two unsolved cryptograms for company.
Ninth floor. Checked in, and promptly at 8:30, they call me in. I get ushered in to where this woman is asking which room -- turns out she is my new doctor. She turns to me and says:
"Ur hem Doktar Zxymytep."
And continued on unintelligibly. After ten seconds of unbroken Klingon radio chatter, I held up my hand and said:
"Whoa! Sorry, but I do not understand a word you are saying. We'll have to speak clearly and slowly to each other, OK?" Then, curiosity got the better of me and I asked, "What is your native language, by the way?"
"Turkish." <-- curtly.
Just about he only Turkish I know is:
"
dumb dog" = "
aptal kopek" and "
fighter pilot" = "
savas pilotu" <-- Don't ask me how I remember these things. But I digress...
She then proceeded to ignore me and read page after page of stuff on the screen. I could see her scroll by my med list -- which has most ricky-tick changed since I went Afib back in February -- without stopping.
So I stopped her. Wasn't easy. She could not guess what I was trying to tell her; that my med list had to be updated. She went to several screens at random, back and forth, until the med list popped up and I pointed at one med that had been increased.
She did not want to bother, it was clear. So I made a command decision:
I would NOT bring up how I got a crash course in AFib. I would NOT bring up the meds I am taking to totally control that which gave me AFib. Why? Because it would be a friggin' total waste of MY time.
One of the
two times that Scooter saved his old man's life was because of the VA. 6 years ago, I had shivery chills and weakness, and Herself drove me to the VA ER. They gave me two Tylenol, and a card of antibiotic pills to take.
My Redhaired Beauty called Scooter. Scooter called a REAL hospital and pulled strings and had the hospital ready for when we pulled up. I had MRSA. Bad. The VA would not have had to have any more yearly meetings with Himself... except for Scooter.
It got worse. I mentioned that the doctor she replaced had run off to Hawaii without updating his calendar, so when I showed up to see the new doc (
her, I pointed out), I could not see ANY doctor because I "was not scheduled". <-- Note that
it did not matter that I had the letter from the VA telling me to
A. Get blood drawn on [this date].
B. See Dr. Bergstrom on [that date]
I must have been wrong, d'ysee, since Dr. Bergstrom had gone to Hawaii. <-- Doncha just love that BLM reasoning???
Anyway, we had pulled the timeclock handle and punched the ticket. I was walking out of the cubbyhole, and there was a tall
old sojer and his wife.
He is pissed and making no secret about it. Ya know why? Let's lissen to him:
"THIS IS THE
FIFTH TIME I HAVE COME HERE WHEN
YOU SCHEDULED IT."
Seems we are still working a string of veterans through the Dr. Bergstom list. And not doing very well.
No, I will never go to the VA Emergency Room again.
Yes, next year (Gawd grant) I WILL got to the 9th floor a week after having blood drawn. The trickle from the Eagle's hiney still buys a little.
That "Gawd grant" covers a LOT of ground.
While really healthy (considering dings) I am 12 years older than the average human male gets to, and still 7 years older than the average Amerkin male gets to.
Beyond that, the amount of money I get when the eagle poops each month (tax free)
does mean sumpin'. Not much, but sumpin'. Over the years, it has been my "free money" that I use to change into gold and silver on a constant basis regardless of the phony Wall Street crap. But it seems likely by the next time this year, it will be in Bolivars or Pengoes or Zimbabwe dollars.