Please answer the call for better doctor's office support

Oh, the fateful words.

"I'll call you tomorrow."

If that comes from a plumber, or a TV repairman, or an auto mechanic, it can be annoying when it becomes an unfulfilled promise.

But when that statement comes from a doctor, and it doesn't happen, it borders on betrayal.

That might sound like a drama king statement, but I have to admit being disgusted with our healthcare system. Are you?

Sending my annoyance level through the roof is that the biggest flaw has nothing to do with medical knowledge or talent. The advancements made during my lifetime have been incredible. 

We can talk about gene sequencing, medications that can delay diabetes, artificial intelligence being used to diagnose diseases, and surgeries with robots. It goes on and on.

We also have access to quality medical insurance — I have Humana Gold Plus — that gives us a road to the talent and technology.

At least it would if people knew how to use a telephone.

So there you have it. Death by dial tone.

Being a guy who has lived a little, I am aware that I shouldn't be talking about aches and pains. Nobody wants to hear that ... except other people with aches and pains.

But my recent journey through chest pain has reinforced my belief that the industry taking calls for the medical profession needs to be torn down and rebuilt. There is no doubt the inability of those without a stethoscope to efficiently handle patients' inquiries is leading to poor medical outcomes. The frustration level becomes so high that those seeking help simply give up.

Now before throwing some poor receptionist under the bus, I have to acknowledge that doctors ultimately are responsible for this pandemic of rude behavior. These offices definitely could use another receptionist to answer phones. 

That, of course, would cut the profit margin.

If you ever have worked in an office where you can see your co-workers sitting all around you, consider this. When the phone rings, does everyone stare at each other to see who will be the first to flinch and answer it?

Take that scenario to a doctor's office where there could be some extreme paperwork associated with answering the phone. Then add an automated system that will answer if you don't, and will ask for a number to give a call back. That's the call back that someone else can do.

My own dip back into the world of healthcare began about a month ago due to the aforementioned chest pains. Being a guy who has lived a little, my primary care physician said I should go to the emergency room to check to see if I was having a heart attack. OK, sure.

The doctor looked at me and said, "Go get checked and I will call you tomorrow."

Uh-oh.

I spent most of the day at Lakewood Ranch Medical Center where I have to say the care was impressive. The staff members there were busy, with emergency cases coming in right and left, but they still managed to attend to me. An EKG, several blood tests, chest X-rays, and a CAT scan were all performed, and the emergency room workers couldn't have been kinder through the process.

At the end of the day, the verdict was that my heart didn't seem to be the problem — cool — but there had to be a problem elsewhere.

Since I wasn't going to expire in the next couple of hours, I was sent home. I was someone else's problem, and I get it. They had more urgent fish to fry.

So after an uncomfortable night, I started trying to discover my next step. Still with chest paints, I called my primary care doctor's office. Or at least I tried.

Instead, I hooked up with some kind of answering service, which wasn't answering. I was put on hold, and told they would get to me eventually, or I could leave my number and they would call me back. I didn't mind holding, and there weren't any prompts where I could leave a message anyway, so I just waited. Forty minutes later, I had been on hold long enough, so I did leave my number.

Three hours went by. Nothing. I called back. More hold time. Left my number again. Nothing.

Mid-afteroon, I finally bypassed the answering service and got through to my doctor's office. I gave them a recap of my phone struggles.

"Sorry."

I then told them that the hospital said it would send my test results if they hadn't already gotten them.

"OK," I said. "Can I talk to my doctor?"

You know, the one who was going to call me.

Nothing. After 5 p.m., I called back, and I talked to another receptionist. I asked if the previous receptionist had gotten my test results from the hospital.

"No ... Sorry."

The current receptionist said she would do that immediately. Another 45 minutes passed and my doctor did, finally, call me. She said she hadn't seen my test results and said she would look at them later that night and would call me, "tomorrow."

Uh-oh.

The next day was Friday. I figured I had zero to no chance of getting a call the next day. I was right.

Friday passed, and Saturday, and Sunday.

So five days after I had spent the day in the hospital, with the elephant still sitting on my chest, my primary care physician called.

The prognosis was a bad gall bladder, and I was referred to a general surgeon. I asked if it would make sense to see a gastroenterologist before a surgeon began cutting things off my body. So I did get an appointment with a specialist.

My specialist agreed that it could be a gall bladder, but he scheduled me for a hepatobiliary iminodiacetic acid scan at Doctor's Hospital in Sarasota that would measure how well my gall bladder was functioning. Again, the hospital part of the ordeal was refreshingly efficient and comfortable. I was told my results would be available in 12 to 24 hours.

My specialist's office called me at work the next day and left a message, asking me to call.

Uh-oh.

I called 15 times over two hours before I finally got someone to answer the phone. The receptionist said, "Your test was negative. Goodbye."

"Wait! Ok, so what does that mean?"

"Do you want to schedule an appointment?"

"No, I want someone to tell me what this means. Can I talk with the doctor?"

"No, the doctor is not here. Do you want to speak to a P.A.?"

"For goodness sakes, no. Can you please have the doctor call when he is in?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. She could have been saying, "When pigs fly." I obviously was being difficult, and I had a better chance of riding on a sled of Alaskan huskies later that afternoon at the UTC skating rink.

Another week has passed and the elephant has repositioned on my chest, making life bearable. I still haven't heard from the specialist.

Perhaps I will get a call ... tomorrow.