Monday, July 29, 2013

A Hand Full of Crazy.



I visited with one of my MD's this morning for my 30 second, 30 day check-up.


While discussing the issue at hand, he made the comment that he "didn't remember what we did last time" because he "lost his records".

I immediately and nonchalantly reminded him, because after all, I was there for one very specific purpose and was rather ready to be on my way:


I felt no need to sidetrack the purpose of the visit by asking for clarification on exactly what, "losing my records" meant.

As is typical for every single day of my life, I was in the midst of channeling my inner JD.


So, while my MD saw this:





This is how I was really feeling:


As the seconds ticked by, I was going through the possible ways in which my medical file had somehow failed to be present and or accounted for.

This was one possible explanation,


while either this 


or this was equally plausible.


Then it occurred to me, I honestly didn't care if my medical file lined the streets of Vestavia Hills 



because I remembered that this particular MD never had a medical reason to need to know my weight.



Regardless of where my medical file might be




 or what other use they may be serving,
I can rest assured that at the end of the day, 



there isn't all that much crazy that surprises me anymore
and


I feel certain that not all of my PHI has been released to the Birmingham Metro Area.