My First Lesson in OBGYN
I had my first OB appointment today. It was a big day for me. I’ve never met my OBGYN before and I was so nervous I left the house and completely forgot to bring my insurance card with me. This is a huge mistake in the world of health care. It’s like going to another country and losing your passport.
The girls at the front desk are like top security screeners, they looked at me and immediately sized me up as a great big ass pain of paperwork. I offered to go home and get my card but they sighed big sighs and told me that this one time they could call my general practitioner and get them to fax a copy of my insurance card over. I apologized profusely. They said it was okay, sort of.
The thing is I always feel uncomfortable when I’m dealing with the front desk at a doctor’s office. I always feel like the women who give you that sign-in clip board hate me and they really hate their job. Once I get past the reception area, everybody is cool. It’s just the front desk that makes me cringe sometimes. I think they are out to get me.
Somehow I managed to get past the front desk and just as I was settling into my very uncomfortable paper clothes and trying to arrange the lower “sheet” as strategically as possible, a girl from the front desk pops her head in. Hello! (I realize she has a perfect view of my butt crack.) I squirm and twist my head around to see what she wants.
“Your general practitioner says they have no record of you being a patient there.” What?!! I hop up, and even though I’m grabbing it desperately, my paper sheet falls to the floor along with any sense of privacy. I rummage around in my bag for the official referral from my general practitioner. Their address is at the top, my insurance group number is below that and at the bottom is my doctor’s very official signature.
“Will this help?” I ask as I try my best to recover my paper sheet and dignity.
“Oh sure,” she says chuckling and shuffles back out the door as if it’s completely normal to conduct business with a naked woman wearing a paper vest and a paper sheet for a skirt. I suppose it is, for her. But what irks me is I know my general doctor has a copy of my insurance card. I was there a few weeks ago for my first pregnancy test. They just don’t feel like looking for it and faxing it over. Either that or the OB front desk girl gets her thrills popping in on first time pregnancy patients who jump out of their skin when they have to get naked in front of strangers.
All I know is I’m going to laminate my insurance card and glue it to my forehead next time.