CONTENT WARNING: Cancer, Death

My sister was diagnosed with cervical cancer six months ago and is on chemotherapy. Unbeknownst to her, the cancer has spread to her lungs. She catches what seems to be a cold and gets rather weak. But she has a medical appointment in a few days regarding her next treatment and decides to wait it over.

On the morning of the medical appointment, her husband finds her unresponsive in the bed. There’s a call to 911, ambulance, and police. It turns out that she peacefully passed away in her sleep. Shortly after the time of the appointment, he gets a call.

Nurse: *Dry tone* “This is the hospital. [Sister] had an appointment this morning at 8:00 with [Doctor]. Is she coming?”

Husband: “No, she’s not coming, and she won’t be coming back, either.”

Nurse: “And why not?”

Husband: “Because [Sister] died in her sleep last night.”

Nurse: *Awkward pause* “Well… you could have called to cancel the appointment.”

Of course, I mean, the first thing on your mind when you find your wife dead in the morning is to cancel a medical appointment.

I work as a medical assistant at a cardiology group. I hook up twenty-four-hour monitors to patients, among other duties. One woman has appointments for an echocardiogram — or ECG, which is an ultrasound of her heart — and a Holter monitor (a portable ECG) hookup.

I get her in a room and explain the monitor.

Me: “You have to be careful as it’s kind of small, it runs on double-A batteries, and you have to keep it on for twenty-four hours without it getting wet or coming off.”

Patient: *Suddenly yelling* “Nobody told me anything about these tests! I can’t be near any electricity! None whatsoever!”

Me: “Uh… why?”

Patient: “Because I have circuits in my face!”

She then stormed out, shouting at someone on her cell phone.

My primary care physician (PCP) referred me for a routine diagnostic procedure, as it’s been some years since the last one. I could not remember where I’d had the procedure done the last time, so I called my PCP’s practice (which accepts my insurance) to ask for guidance in finding a practitioner.  

After some considerable delay — a couple of weeks, but no big deal — they referred me to an outside medical group for this procedure, which surprised me because I had been under the impression it could be done within their group.  

I phoned the outside medical group and made an appointment. There was some additional rigamarole before the appointment can come off, so it was scheduled for about a month hence.

After all this, I got a call from the medical group’s office asking for clarification of my insurance information, which I’d given them when I booked the appointment. Turns out they got the name of my carrier wrong, substituting a name that didn’t even remotely resemble that of my carrier.  

When I clarify the actual carrier, they said:

Employee: “Oh, we don’t accept that insurance.”

Me: “That doesn’t matter. My insurance will reimburse me regardless of where I go. I can pay at the appointment, and all I need from you is the correct procedure code, which I can submit to my insurance on a claim form.”

A few days later, they phoned to cancel my appointment.

Employee: “We don’t accept your insurance.”

I didn’t argue. I figured that if a practice employs people so stupid that they record my insurance information wrong and can’t understand that I can pay for the procedure and get reimbursed by my insurance, I certainly don’t want to have any procedures done there.

The irritating part is that this is not the first time this has happened. Now I have to find a different practitioner for this procedure, and it looks like my PCP’s group will be no help in that matter.

I’m amazed at how the insurance companies seem to call all the shots regarding medical practices.

When I was a kid, my parents took my brother and me to the same pediatric practice for years. The doctors and nurses were (generally) very good, and since we’d been going there since I was in preschool, they all knew us like family. They also all knew that I never ran a fever (still don’t) and I had an absurdly high pain tolerance.

One day when I was in junior high school, I felt like I had gas, only I couldn’t pass it. The pressure came and went over the next few days, then became constant, and then got worse. Mom took me to the doctor’s office, but for some reason (I think everyone else was at a conference or something) the only one available to see me for the next few days was a new doctor who’d just joined the practice. [New Doctor] did a thorough examination, proclaimed that it was just gas, and told Mom and me how to deal with it.

The next day, the pressure was still there and had turned into pain. Mom took me back, and [New Doctor] looked at me again, and again he proclaimed that it was gas. Mom was worried that it might be appendicitis, but [New Doctor] dismissed that out of hand since I wasn’t running a fever and wasn’t in that much pain. Despite Mom’s insistence that I never run a fever and have an incredible pain tolerance (and one of the nurses backing her up), he insisted and sent us on our way.

The next day, the pain was worse, to the point where I couldn’t go to school. Mom dragged me back to the doctor’s office, and again [New Doctor] dismissed the possibility that it was appendicitis and actually accused me of faking to get out of school. Needless to say, Mom was pissed.

The day after that, I was in so much pain that I was having a hard time walking and couldn’t really stand up straight. Mom called the practice and demanded that someone other than [New Doctor] see me. The nurse practitioner agreed to come in even though it was her day off and examine me.

We got to the office, and [Nurse Practitioner] took one look at me — I don’t think she even had me get on the exam bench — and told Mom to drive me to the local emergency room immediately.

Mom did so, the ER doctors brought me back to an exam room and did a little poking and prodding around my abdomen, did an X-ray or CAT Scan (I think — this is pushing twenty-five years ago now), and then scheduled me for emergency surgery.

Mom and [Nurse Practitioner] were right: it was appendicitis. My surgeon said that my appendix had been perforated and, if they hadn’t bumped my surgery up to earlier in the day, would have ruptured completely. I was less than an hour away from indescribable agony and severe medical complications.

[New Doctor] adamantly refused to believe it had been appendicitis since I hadn’t been running a fever and had never been doubled over in agony, even after being shown my updated medical records. Nobody at that practice let him live the incident down, and from what I remember, he moved to a different practice shortly thereafter.

This story takes place a couple of years before the global health crisis. I’ve had a dry cough for a couple of weeks. I assume it’s allergies until I wake up one morning with a horrible cough, shortness of breath, wheezing, and a fever over 101. I call my doctor’s office, and I get a nurse. Usually, they’ll note my symptoms and then consult with the doctor to see if I need to come in or if they can diagnose over the phone.

Nurse #1: “Okay, tell me your symptoms.”

I do this.

Nurse #1: “It’s a virus. Liquids and rest. You’ll be better in a few days. It’s going around.”

Me: “But I’ve had this cough for a couple of weeks with no fever until today. It’s getting worse, not better.”

Nurse #1: “Viruses do that.”

Me: “It doesn’t feel right. Can you talk to [Doctor] and squeeze me in today?”

Nurse #1: “No.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Nurse #1: “We have no openings today.”

Me: “Do you have anything tomorrow?”

Nurse #1: “No.”

Me: “Okay… Can you try to fit me in? I’ll hold while you check. This is really bad. I’ve coughed so much that my ribs hurt.”

I’ve been coughing intermittently during the entire call, and it sounds like I’m coughing up a lung.

Nurse #1: “No. Go to urgent care if you’re that sick.” *Hangs up*

I call the nearest urgent care facility and describe my symptoms. I’m coughing even more at this point.

Urgent Care Nurse: “Can you be here in fifteen minutes? You need to be checked ASAP. I don’t like that cough.”

I get there in the allotted time and they immediately put me in an exam room. I’m diagnosed with pneumonia, given an antibiotic and cough suppressant, and told to stay home for the next seven to ten days. I’m glad they caught it, but I am furious with my doctor’s office! I pick up my prescriptions, head home, and call my doctor. I’m coughing even louder now.

Nurse #2: “[Doctor]’s office, this is [Nurse #2].”

I’ve spoken to this nurse in the past, and she is always very helpful.

Me: “Hi, it’s [My Name], and I called earlier about getting in to see [Doctor]. [Nurse #1] said that I had a virus and said there were no appointments today or tomorrow. I went to urgent care, and I have pneumonia. Are y’all too busy to see patients now?”

Nurse #2: “Wait, what? We have openings this afternoon. With that cough, we would’ve squeezed you in earlier. Did urgent care get you taken care of? If not, I’ll schedule you right now.”

Me: “Yes, they took care of me. I’m on an antibiotic and a cough suppressant.”

Nurse #2: “Okay, good. Let me pull your file really fast…”

I hear typing and several mouse clicks.

Nurse #2: “Hmm. I don’t see any notes indicating that you even called in. All right. We’ll take care of this. Please call us if you’re not better within seven to ten days and I’ll make sure you get in.”

The antibiotic kicks in quickly and I feel much better within a few days. A few months later, I go in to see my doctor for my yearly labs. Guess who calls me back?

Nurse #1: “Hi, I’m [Nurse #1] and I’ll be doing your labs today. You’re… [My Name]?!”

She stares at me.

Me: “And you’re [Nurse #1]. I believe we’ve chatted on the phone. I’m the one who had pneumonia.”

I raised an eyebrow and didn’t say anything else. She silently prepped me for labs and hustled out of the room. I didn’t see her again after that!