Needed: Reset Button, New or Used

Today was one of those days that needed to be either deleted, rebooted, reset, or erased.

When I got to work, Transcriptionist told me that Receptionist had called and wouldn’t be coming in due to some sort of family emergency. When that happens, it means that someone must fill in for Receptionist. So between Office Manager (me) and Transcriptionist, we juggled filling in up front. To begin with, we had umpteen patients cancel their appointments, probably because the weather was nice today. We were left with about five patients which always makes the Doc cross. So Medical Assistant 1 called some patients from our overloaded schedule of next week to see if they would come in today. We ended up with a total of seven, two of which were new, four of which were echoes, and one of which needed a surgical clearance letter. We figured that would keep Doc busy for a while, even though our numbers were down. Well, Doc gets there late, as usual. He sees one patient with whom he spends an incredible amount of time. I was helping Transcriptionist look for Receptionist’s supplies which were not to be found in Logical Places. We had to end up constructing some new patient charts, which made us both cross as anything because that was supposed to have been done and in Good Supply.

I could hear Doc coming because he said my name as he was coming up the hall. Never a good sign. And I knew he was not pleased. “We need to come up with a system to… yip yap yip yap yip…..” and on and on he prattled, almost at the point of yelling. I didn’t have any idea what he was referring to so I stood there silently, gazing blankly at him, letting him rant. I gave him no response—just blinked a couple extra times—and he passed on by, still muttering. I asked Medical Assistant 2 what in the world was the matter. It boiled down to the fact that when he saw patient 1, he had evidently not dictated an H&P on her initial visit, and it was deemed Missing.

Well, we see roughly 240 patients in a month. This is the first that this particular problem has ever happened because… [brace yourself] WE ALREADY HAVE A SYSTEM in place to prevent this very thing. But somehow the system was breached, and so we have to have a major crisis in the hallway in front of the patients. It is the responsibility of the Transcriptionist to see to matters such as the issue he was raising, and as she was already ill about having to fill in for Receptionist, now was not really a good time for her to be bothered. Especially because it’s like pulling teeth to get him to do what he needs to do in the first place. She says many times when she tells him to dictate something, he’ll just plop it on her desk without doing it. But that is beside the point…

It’s not so much that the conversation happened, it’s more the thing of how it happened, where it happened, and the fact that it turned into this Eternal Blame Game that the Doc loves to play. Never any fault of his own. Never say oops, correct the mistake, and go on. No. We have to throw a fit. We have to get everyone in an uproar. We have to revamp the entire system…and not tomorrow. Today! And we certainly can’t stop long enough, or in a place private enough, to discuss the situation like grown-ups.

Well, he finished his fit then said he was off to do a stress test at the hospital and that he would be back shortly. Argh. We had just started seeing patients. And they were already tired of waiting.

Well, once everything had calmed down and I had heard out Transcriptionist’s side of the story, I went back to my office to try to get something done. Foremost on the list was the memo the Doc had just ordered Medical Assistant 3 to have typed up. Yet another ignorant memo. Doc returned from the hospital and resumed seeing patients.

A short time later, I look up as Doc walks into my office. “How’s everything going, Miss Kris?” Well, quite frankly, I was still grouchy from his little fit. His mood seems to set a chain reaction throughout the whole staff, and everybody snaps at everybody. It was well-circulated that we must tread softly because he was NOT in a good mood today.

Anyway, I just shook my head, turned back to my work, and muttered, “It’s going.”

“What?”

“It’s going!” I said a little louder.

“Any problems?” he asked.

I wanted to lower my head enough so that I could peer at him over my spectacles and say in my most disgusted redneckish slang, “Whada you think?” But I didn’t.

Instead I said, “We’re just trying not to get on each other’s nerves!” I don’t know if he read anything into that or not, but he turned around and said, “Well, I’ve been sick all week and…” I tuned him out. I was like, “Talk to the hand…”

I don’t even know what his point was in coming in there, but the best thing to do is just ignore him when he gets like that. So I did.

However, it didn’t stop there. Not only do we have a grumpy Doc, but we also have a malfunctioning fax machine. I had rigged the phone lines up where we could receive faxes on Medical Assistant 1’s computer, and I was supposed to drop the fax machine off at the repair shop on the way to my 3:45 class. Because of helping to cover the front desk and helping to soothe employees’ hurt feelings and helping to come up with a New System, time flew by, and it was all of a sudden time to leave. I hadn’t had time for lunch, and I was so hungry. My lunch for the day was chili, and I thought I would just try to eat it on the way. So I hurriedly packed the fax machine into my car and then went back inside to get the rest of my belongings and to warm up my chili. And I proceeded on my way.

Now one of my summer projects was to sew new dresses. And I had made a stunning white dress. And this dress was the envy of all my other dresses, because I liked it so much. And this was the day I chose to wear it. Sharon and I have talked about the dangers of wearing white dresses, and I was very conscious of those things, and I made sure I did NOT drop chili on my nice new stunning white dress. And I arrived at the repair shop in good time …and with no chili on my dress. I gathered up the fax machine and entered the repair shop where I was relieved of the monster by a kind gentleman. But alas! I had black ink on my left arm. A huge, unforgiving blob. And horrors! I now had three blobs of black ink on the front of my stunning white dress. And that is what made me the crossest. And the gentleman in the shop expressed his concern for my black blobs on my stunning dress. And he suggested using alcohol for my removal efforts. I thanked him and proceeded on to class.

Where could I get alcohol on this side of town? And then I spotted it. A pharmacy. One that I had never noticed before. I cut through the DQ lot and rushed inside. I grabbed a bag of cotton balls and the first bottle of alcohol I found. I paid for my items and resumed my journey up the Hill.

I knew I was in bad shape when I could not wipe the ink off my arm. It was there to stay. Indeed, it looked like a very large bruise. And I pretended to have been abused and chose to devote my efforts elsewhere. And I noticed that this alcohol was not so common as to be just plain alcohol. It was rubbing alcohol with WINTERGREEN oil. And so I began to smell as if I were a wintergreen-flavored mint.

And I took a large dollop of alcohol and applied it to my dress…as suggested by the concerned man in the repair shop. Not only did the spot get larger, but it also took on a brownish tinge around the edges. Now I looked as if I had burned a hole in my dress.

And so I abandoned the project. I was not fit to appear in class. But I had to. Because I’m a stickler as far as attendance goes. And thus began Mission Cover Up. I finally figured out what the dangly straps on my backpack are for. They are there for you to fiddle with just in case you need to have a reason to have your hands placed strategically in Odd Places. I pulled the straps over the Spots, and my hands stayed there, suspended at the waist. And I fiddled with those straps the entire fifteen minute walk inside to my class. And when I sat down, I placed my backpack in my lap and squeezed up to the table as tightly as I could. It was tricky, but I pulled it off.

I did the same thing on my way back out to the car after class. And as I was walking, another girl cut in front of me. And I was distracted because I was reading the back of her shirt. It said, “There are leaders and there are followers. Please Note: You are reading the back of my shirt.” And I frowned at her shirt in disapproval… just as my foot hit [and stumbled over] the curb.

And I began to pray that God would just get me home safely. And He did. But I still want to hit the reset button.