doctor, doctor

FOX News calling anything by Michael Moore "brilliant and uplifting" must count as at least one sign of the apocalypse, but, assuming we're around by the release date, I absolutely intend to see Sicko,Moore's new film about health care in the United States. Notice I did not say health care system, as there is no system, save the nefarious plot that requires even all non-pediatric offices to employ at least one receptionist who insists on wearing Disney Princess scrubs. Or the only slightly more sinister scheme that demands the three appointment talk-about-the-test, have-the-test, come-back-and-talk-about-the-test-again protocol when two phone calls and one visit would suffice, but there's no profit margin in that, and, apparently, no value in my time, so pardon me as I bang my head on the exam room wall. For the 19th time since March. Historical data tell me I've got another hour before this doctor will pop in, so, if I've got anything besides a questionable radiology report, it's time.

Time to ponder how bad traffic will be when my 3:30-in-theory appointment becomes a 5:00-in-reality rendezvous. Time to wonder what would happen if Michael Moore had a reel of film for petty problems: if he shuffled down these narrow corridors where I've never so much as seen a man and asked why halfheartedly chasing an ultrasound tech to her car is a better strategy than just setting up the test as I'd repeatedly asked days ago, would he actually get an answer, or would he have to come back in June, too?

"You must be frustrated," two doctors have recited to me in less a week, both having attended the same workshop on Heading Off the Patient With That Look In Her Eye, both acknowledging that going to the doctor often makes one feel worse instead of better, and not only when a telescope has been inserted into one's bladder.

Ya think?