Musings of a Mad Avon Lady - Doctor's Visits

Don't you just hate doctor's visits? I'm sorry - docs - it's nothing personal, well, generally speaking at least. I was talking with a colleague yesterday about her feelings about visits to the family doctor. She's okay with her doctor. Actually, she's extremely fond of her. My colleague has a problem with her doctor's office staff. For me, that's no issue. I simply ignore them - or at least I give it my best. Having worked in offices with no more than 10 people to a $400 billion finance firm, I've been exposed to just about every personality type. I admit to not having absolute patience and tolerance for every person with whom I have contact. I'm a Christian, but I don't profess to be perfect.

My problem is the comfort level I experience. My anxiety starts from the minute I realize a doctor's visit is a possibility. That level increases until the time those office doors close on my fanny. I simply don't understand why I can't get beyond this. They're supposed to be there to help me. I'm afraid, however, that their interests lay more in the size of their wallet and their standing with the hospitals with whom they have contracts than in my welfare. I must trust their skills to a degree, however. At least the skill of a surgeon and the operating room staff. Flop me on the table, open me up - remember the anesthetic beforehand, please. I'm okay with that. Just keep me away from routine office visits! Oh, they hold your prescription refills hostage. Forgot about that one! Major issue in my mind. I know if I'm feeling well enough to get a refill without the doctor charging me $175 to simply look at me and pronounce me sufficiently well to breathe another day.

Needless to say, I'm scheduled for one today at 11:15, and I'm trying to remain calm lest my blood pressure be so high I'm forced to visit with more frequency.