So I have a problem with ulcers. My GP has tried all sorts of (expensive) medication, to no avail, so she said that the only option left open is to shove a camera down, and have a look, and possibly sort out any problem that they find. But she does not do the procedure, I have to see a local specialist.
She does not see the need for me to have an appointment, as everything has been tried, and the scope is the only option, but the specialist decides he wants to see me. OK, so I make an appointment. The day before the appointment, they phone up to change my time - bit of a bugger, but I re-arrange my day accordingly.
Fortunately I arrive early at the facility, as all the accessible parking bays are used (none of them have a placard), so I park on the other side of the street on a rough bit of ground, and roll back. Some eejut in a large 4x4 has parked so I cannot get into the main doors, but Iknow there is a side door. So maybe, just maybe, I am not in the best frame of mind when I roll into the waiting room.
I am given all the standard forms to fill in, but clearly the receptionist assumes that I am incapable of filling in forms, and has to point out what to put in each box. Sigh... I am used to this, but it still grates...
So I finish the forms, and wait, and wait, and wait. Again, I am used to this, and I try to be patient, telling myself that the delay could be because of an emergency, and I have been an emergency before.
The minutes tick by...eventually 50 minutes after the time, the doctor comes out of his room. There is me, and now a woman in the waiting room. The doctor picks up a file and goes back into his room. The receptionist then sends the woman in... I look puzzled at the receptionist. "oh, do you mind? I have just sent that rep in as she has to go back to work" WHAT??! "Well, actually, so do I...". Receptionist gives a shrug. Obviously she cannot process the information that a wobbly might actually work...
So the rep comes out, and I go in. I explain the situation to the specialist, and he says exactly what my GP has already told me. That's it.
So I exit his room, and am charged R400 for the pleasure... The receptionist then compounds the situation by asking me whether she can call anyone for me, to come and pick me up. Clearly she thinks that a wobbly cannot use a cellphone, let alone drive a fecking car. I am tempted to shove the R400 where the sun don't shine.
I end up giving them a piece of my mind...which was probably pretty stupid, as the procedure on Monday is possibly now going to be more uncomfortable that it needs to be...