Missing Pieces
During my junior year in college, a friend who had submatriculated to the dental school convinced me and a couple of other pushovers to volunteer as guinea pigs at the university's dental clinic. The first-year dental students had to recruit their own patients for a three-week session on preventive dentristy, and she had offered to arm-twist some of her undergrad pals for the folks who didn't have any prospects of their own. She promised that we'd be taken out to dinner as a thank you for showing up at 8AM on three consecutive Fridays—a chore that, as lazy college students, we felt required hazard pay.
I still feel bad for the guy who got stuck with me as his patient. In the first place, he was so nervous that his hands literally shook while inside my mouth. All he was doing was demonstrating proper flossing technique—there was no way he could hurt me—but he was an absolute wreck.
It didn't help that the next assignment was to do a kind of random audit of the patient's teeth. He was given a diagram of the mouth with several specific teeth designated for examination. Out of 32, I think he was supposed to examine something like six or eight. Unfortunately for him, I didn't have at least three of the designated teeth. I'd never gotten wisdom teeth (which explains a lot), and I had inherited an absence of another two teeth on top from one side of the family and two on the bottom from the other. So instead of a full 32, I had 24. He was so flustered by this that I thought he might drop out of school then and there.
I was reminded of the hapless dental student this morning as I was heading to the gynecologist's office for my semi-annual check-up because, well, I no longer have some of the parts that she would typically examine: no ovaries, no left breast. Fortunately, she's not a first-year medical student, so this didn't throw her.
I did wonder, momentarily, whether I'd get some sort of discount on the cost of an office visit since the exam would be, by definition, somewhat abbreviated.
A couple of years ago, when I was getting one of my first one-side-only mammograms, I asked whether I'd be charged half of the typical fee. It seemed only right, since the technician and radiologist were doing only half the work and using only half the film.
Not surprisingly, the billing person didn't see it that way.
It was neither the first nor last time that my application of logic to a given medical situation was met with a blank stare.
Followed, of course, by a not-remotely-blank bill.
I still feel bad for the guy who got stuck with me as his patient. In the first place, he was so nervous that his hands literally shook while inside my mouth. All he was doing was demonstrating proper flossing technique—there was no way he could hurt me—but he was an absolute wreck.
It didn't help that the next assignment was to do a kind of random audit of the patient's teeth. He was given a diagram of the mouth with several specific teeth designated for examination. Out of 32, I think he was supposed to examine something like six or eight. Unfortunately for him, I didn't have at least three of the designated teeth. I'd never gotten wisdom teeth (which explains a lot), and I had inherited an absence of another two teeth on top from one side of the family and two on the bottom from the other. So instead of a full 32, I had 24. He was so flustered by this that I thought he might drop out of school then and there.
I was reminded of the hapless dental student this morning as I was heading to the gynecologist's office for my semi-annual check-up because, well, I no longer have some of the parts that she would typically examine: no ovaries, no left breast. Fortunately, she's not a first-year medical student, so this didn't throw her.
I did wonder, momentarily, whether I'd get some sort of discount on the cost of an office visit since the exam would be, by definition, somewhat abbreviated.
A couple of years ago, when I was getting one of my first one-side-only mammograms, I asked whether I'd be charged half of the typical fee. It seemed only right, since the technician and radiologist were doing only half the work and using only half the film.
Not surprisingly, the billing person didn't see it that way.
It was neither the first nor last time that my application of logic to a given medical situation was met with a blank stare.
Followed, of course, by a not-remotely-blank bill.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 7:43 PM
1 Comments:
Dear Jody,
I had the same "one sided mamogram" which caused me to go further and have a mamogram of the other [left] breast.]
This was the breast with 2 invasive tumors, and was found only because I went elsewhere, etc.
Your instincts and observations are right on, and I always find your diaries interesting,humorous, and illuminating.
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