Turns out, I guess, my connection was pretty good. At least, this morning I finally connected with the nurse assistant to my pulmonologist.
As you may recall, my pulmonology specialist examined the results of my recent hospital CT-Scan and concluded that the hospital doctor was wrong, I didn't have a blood clot in my lung that required treatment with an expensive drug, Eliquis, which is advertised heavily on TV. That was wonderful news for me, both medically and financially, but I needed the lung specialist to send his findings on to my Primary Care Physician so I could get off the drug.
And the nurse assistant wasn't returning my phone calls -- any of the four calls in the last four days. Until today.
Finally, steaming at the ears, I let the front desk at the doctor's office know what was going on. And they put me through to the office manager, who immediately put me through to the assistant, who decided, under the circumstances, that maybe he could answer his damn phone, after all.
Instantly cooperative, he sent off a FAX to my primary care doctor, who presumably will straighten out what needs to be straightened with the drug and the hematologist that I was going to have to see for an oncology consultation about what was wrong with my blood.
All of which has reminded me of the days when Dr. Floyd Brallier was my only doctor in my home town, Wickenburg, Ariz. -- and in fact, the only doctor in our town. And whenever something medical went wrong with me -- which was often -- my mother would simply bring me in to his antiseptic-smelling office and without fuss, appointments, or consultations, he'd fix me up. But that's another story for another day.
But meanwhile: Dr. Brallier, I need you now.