Because I know that you all accept me how I am, even though I’m now that lady, I’ll let you all be the first to hear about how I had to call every dermatologist’s office within a 25-mile radius to find out where I was supposed to be yesterday at 3:15.
I’m not old and senile; I’m just chronically distracted and thinking about more important things.
I was so wrapped up in making the appointment and getting that crossed off my list, I forgot to make a note of where I was going. I entered dermatologist 3:15 on my calendar and turned my attention to the next thing, which was to convince Ranger that there is hot air blowing out of the back bedroom air vent when everything is turned off. (I am not crazy. This is actually happening. Distracted, yes. Crazy, no.) I did accomplish this, by the way. I suggested that a new flux capacitor should be installed. I find that whenever I say that, home systems professionals start to take me very seriously.
So today at around 2:50, I started to gather up my things to go to my dermatologist appointment and realized I had no idea where I was going.
First I tried to recall whatever I could about the phone call when I made the appointment. I couldn’t remember thinking This is going to be near the ________ or This will take me more than ________ minutes to get there or It sounds like this is over by the ___________.
I did remember the following things about the doctor I chose out of the big insurance doctor list:
a) Some of the doctors were women
b) The receptionist sounded like someone’s mom and she said, “Welcome to the practice!” before I hung up. I thought that was a really nice thing to say.
That sounded to me like something on PGA Boulevard, so I started there.
“Um, hi, um, this is Diane Fitzpatrick. Can you check and see if I have an appointment today at 3:15?
They acted all weird about my calling and asked me which doctor I had made my appointment with. I said “the woman one” and that just seemed to anger them more. I moved to the Military Trail’s Doctor Office Corridor and continued calling.
Some of the offices said they weren’t open, so I was able to eliminate those practices without talking to another human and ruining my reputation among medical professionals throughout the county.
I did finally find it and as soon as the lady answered the phone, I knew I had hit the jackpot. She sounded like someone’s mom.
I wouldn’t have had this problem if I hadn’t needed to find a new dermatologist. I wasn’t thrilled with my last one, though. He was a little too gung-ho about Botox and other beauty enhancements, and his own face was just a little too shiny and smooth. It’s not natural when your male doctor is prettier than you. I didn’t need a medical school graduate to tell me how wrinkly and gravity-stricken I am. I’ve got kids for that.
The woman dermatologist I finally ended up with was very nice. She never once suggested I buy a $64 bottle of beauty enhancement or have needles stuck into my laugh lines, frown lines or turkey gobbler.
I’ll definitely go back to her. If I can remember where her office is.
Labels: being distracted, being wrinkly and saggy, botox, dermatologist, dermatology, doctor appointments