Just about the doctor's assistant

It could very well be that while you are reading this, you are on hold with the doctor. You often have that on Mondays, because then there have been silly accidents over the weekend or you have been walking around with that throbbing thumb for just a bit too long, which is taking on absurd proportions. But because the whole city, the village, or actually just the entire country is now calling the doctor, you will be on hold for a while. Can you read this in the meantime?.

If you a hernia you have, then you have a somewhat more intense contact with the general practitioner. My doctor is of the old-fashioned caliber ‘don't complain too quickly and if you do complain, then there is really something wrong’. He also still has that moss green carpeting. Great method, I think. So I always say that I don't like coming to see him and that it's nothing personal. He doesn't mind this at all. I find this a nice way of interacting. All good then, between me and the doc.

You feel the ‘but’, right? My relationship with the doctor's assistant is a bit more turbulent. Now I truly believe that I am not an easy customer, because I want (if she can arrange it that way) to come for an appointment as early or as late as possible. If she then says one o'clock, I start to ’but’, because hello, that's right in the middle of the workday. By the way, I am also the chaotic one who discovers in the morning that her pills for the evening are out. Just before the weekend. And that's where I think the assistant and I go wrong. I think, I could be wrong. Or maybe it's because I call at the busiest point of the day (half past eight, yes) to ask if the prescription line is working. Lines and I, it works awkwardly.

The assistant makes a sport of hanging up the phone on me like I'm some kind of silly little thing. Inside me, a mix of ‘uuuh-uuuuh-uuuuh-uuuuh?’ and ‘very-very-angry-call-my-friend’ is swirling. She is now also counting on my phone call when there is talk of contact with the assistant. If I ask, she says no. If I try to think along, she gets snappy. If I mumble a defense, she hangs up. And you know what's strange? When I am there, she is nice. The no-nonsense type who does a thousand and one things in a second. Who just about doesn't install you with a flowery cushion in the back and a cup of green tea on the table with ancient magazines and filled crossword puzzles. Who still throws a strong cup of coffee into the consultation room behind my doctor between his appointments. She also in small steps explains to the eighty-year-old lady how to replace her gauze. What I say, such a champ that makes you think: holy moly, how do you do it? Until I have her on the phone... I. Don't. Get. It.

P.S.: In case you are still on hold, we need to talk about that hold music.