The not-so-ordinary trip to the doctor

The wife and I went to the doctor’s yesterday. I thought it would be your typical visit – check in, get checked out by the doctor, go home. Silly me. The doctor sent me to get my hearing tested. Again, run of the mill stuff… or so I thought. The technician called me into the sound booth and started explaining the procedure. He was rather awkward, and what I can only imagine was his attempt to make friendly banter, he asked my if my husband was the one telling me my hearing wasn’t up to par. I glanced down at my wedding ring and made a quick comment about not having a husband. It took him a minute, and you could see the light hit.

“Oh, wait. OH! I am so sorry. I just thought… I mean… did your spouse tell you your hearing was going?”

Quite frankly, all I wanted was to get the hearing test over with so I could go home. I was tired and had a lot to get done. Instead, I had to listen to a ten minute diatribe about gay marriage and how it would never fly in this country. (I guess he missed the fact that it IS legal here in Massachusetts and that I AM, indeed, married… oh, and gay.) These things seem to have slipped his mind and I had to listen to a rant about how if we’d just call it something other than marriage (he suggested “Purple Fuzzy thing”, which I don’t think does the whole lifetime commitment thing justice), no politician could deny us our rights. At this point, I was ready to cry. I just wanted the damn hearing test, not a lecture about my sexuality.

Meanwhile, the wife was having a difficult time with the receptionist. When she handed the unfriendly woman our insurance card (which had my name on it, as I am the primary insured), the woman didn’t quite know what to do with herself, or the card for that matter.

“Wait, don’t you have a card with your own name on it?”

“No, I am covered under my wife’s insurance. That’s her name on the card.”

At first, the wife just thought that perhaps the receptionist wasn’t too bright. Unfortunately, that idea was squashed when another woman walked up to the counter and told the receptionist that she was on her husband’s insurance plan and asked if they needed to see the card.

“Oh no, you’re all set. We already have a copy of the card from him – it’s the same information on each card.”

Funny how she perked up for the straight lady… and didn’t seem so confounded by the insurance card issue.

After my hearing test debacle, I met back up with the wife to check out with the unfriendly receptionist who refused to look at us while she scheduled another appointment for me and printed the bill. I guess it’s hard to tell the difference between two girls when you refuse to look at them, and as a result, she kept calling us by the wrong names and asking the wife what days were good for her to come back in to the office.

When I was little, I was afraid of going to the doctor’s – mostly because I hated needles. After this last trip, my fear has resurfaced… who knew a trip to the doctor’s office would be so emotionally jarring?