I Am a Grown-Up?

I got home from work early today–two hours early!  In fact, I wouldn’t normally be home for almost another hour.  When I arrived home, the first thought that crossed my mind was:  NAP!  And, although I am, admittedly, lying in bed typing this blog entry, I decided against a nap.  I’ve come to realize, since starting work in September, that week-day naps are not a good thing.  Week-day naps just make week-night bedtimes later and the following week-day mornings harder.  So, no nap.

Instead, I decided to make a few calls that I had been putting off for a while.  Starting January 1, I was no longer covered by my parents’ health insurance and, instead, I began coverage under my own work-associated health insurance.  As a side note, it’s amazing that I was covered by my parents’ health insurance for as long as I was (thanks, healthcare reform)!  Anyway, under my new health insurance, I had to choose a Primary Care Physician, or “PCP” for those in the know.  In December, I chose a random doctor’s office that is located walking distance away in the Narb-erhood.  Fast forward to today.  I called to schedule an appointment and found out that my designated PCP isn’t even a normal doctor’s office.  Apparently the doctors have an office there, but spend their time visiting patients in nursing homes.  Not exactly what I was looking for.  What was most shocking to me was the realization I had while on the phone with the pseudo-doctors’-office’s receptionist.

Receptionist (we’ll name her Rita):  Do you have your medical records?
Me:  No.
Rita:  Who was your doctor before?
Me:  …… (*having a realization*)
Rita:  Did you have a doctor before us?  (graciously rephrasing the question she, perhaps, thought I did not understand)
Me:  I didn’t have a doctor.  My last doctor was my pediatrician. (*still having a realization*)
Rita:  You haven’t been to the doctor since you were 21?

“Rita” wasn’t far from the truth.  I think I’ve visited doctors twice since I was 17–i.e., the last time I visited my pediatrician.  Once for whooping cough and once more recently to a lady doctor in order to get a prescription for birth control.  That’s less than once every 4 years!  What I realized was that, I am, by age, if nothing else, a grown-up now.  It’s time to collect my medical records and move on–no more pediatrician for me.  And so, that is what I did.  Well, first I changed my PCP to a REAL doctors’ office, and then I scheduled an appointment.

Look at me go …after 9 years!

 


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