After a brief stop at the Pasadena Humane Society (Nicole is having "baby" thoughts so I'm trying to convince her another cat would be better), we headed for the Kaiser offices on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. We got there in record time, which is unusual considering L.A. traffic.
And then the waiting started. We were there so early, the "appointment time" at urgent care wasn't even open. "Two o'clock is when the office opens," we were told so we sat in the waiting room and, well, waited.
A few minutes before two, a nice lady came out and began the check in process. Then we went to the other waiting room and no sooner did we sit down, before the call came to go to triage and then an exam room. I answered questions, I showed the nurse my foot, we joked around a bit, it was nice. We were 15 minutes ahead of schedule. And then the nurse dropped the bomb.
"The doctor is running a little late, seeing as the clinic doesn't really open until 2. But you are his first patient."
And then, the waiting resumed. My appointment time came and went. I started playing with the box of latex gloves and stealing the ear cones for the ear looking thingy. There was one false alarm when the door opened briefly and then shut again.
The doctor finally poked his head in. It looked like he ran all they way from his BMW and didn't stop at his office. He still had his iPod on his belt and didn't have his name tag on. After quick introductions he looked at my foot and said, "Hmmm, looks like gout." Great.
He explained about the uric acid build up that can occur in your blood if you tend to eat rich food. Then he attempted to soften the blow by saying, "That's why royalty in the middle ages often suffered from gout." So I guess I'm royalty or I eat rich food, Or both. He suggested I have blood work done to test for the uric acid, and as a favor so I wouldn't have to come back, he marked the test "STAT".
Cool, I thought, any time a doctor says "STAT" on Grey's Anatomy or ER, things get done! People run around, bags of blood are passed back and forth, needles inserted into arms, things stuffed down throats. Okay, I didn't want the tossing blood bags or stuff in my throat, but running people and needles in my arm I'm all for.
The doctor patted me on my back and sent me down to the lab with the piece of paper saying "STAT". I got my blood drawn, I went to the receptionist to pay, then went back to the nurses station and did a little dance to figure out what I was supposed to do next. After all, my blood test is "STAT".
"Go back to the waiting room and have a seat. We'll call you in when the test are complete."
Won't be long now, I'm "STAT".
One and a half hours later, or three bad sitcoms, depending on if you were watching the TV in the waiting room or not, the doctor comes to the door and calls me in.
"I'm afraid it's what I thought, you have gout. It's not bad and very treatable, but you'll need to change your diet and exercise more. But it's something you'll have to deal with from now on. Here's a slide of the magnified sample of your blood"
Okay, he didn't really show me a slide. But he did prescribe me with three big bottles of pills which I have to take three of each day with lots of water until the pain goes away. And then keep them handy incase of reoccurrence. Oh, and I get three refills.
As long as I'm inserting pictures I'm stealing off the net, here's one I found drawn by James Gillray in 1799. His take on gout.
I think he's pretty right.
......
No comments:
Post a Comment