I went to the dermatologist today to get this grody thing on my arm checked out.
I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve never been to a dermatologist before. I researched a few potential doctors online before making my selection–turns out, there’s only one dermatologist in the area that my insurance will semi-pay for.
I was nervous. The 26 internet reviews for this guy were less than favorable. Competent? Sure, along with sarcastic and pig-headed and full of himself. I wasn’t too sure I wanted to find out for myself. But, being as how my grody thing looked like it was about to sprout a human head, I put on my friendliest smile and got Merrick all dolled-up, determined to catch flies with honey…and a destructive 2-year-old.
I thought we might be in a good place when I heard the soundtrack to “Braveheart” playing in the waiting room.
I took 80 minutes (or 20, whatever) to fill out paperwork–it’s funny, but my gynocologist doesn’t require near as much information to…well, you know…but this guy needed references just to see 6 cm of my right arm.
The man was nice–not a jerk, not pig-headed. When he saw that Merrick had brought his doctor kit along, he loaded my boy down with gloves, tongue depressors, gauze, and syringes. And any doctor who gives my kid loot is okay in my book.
He took all of 3 seconds to assess my grody arm spot–“Yep, that’s a grody arm spot, alright.”–and decided to scrape it off and send it to the lab.
The word “scrape” is really not ever something you want to hear coming out of a doctor’s mouth.
But I manned up, took a little shot in my spot, sat through the scraping, and I was off to the check-out station all within 5 minutes. I can’t even remember what the man looked like, but I thought he sure turned out to be cool.
Until I had to pay him.
I have this new theory that at least one year of medical school is spent taking courses like “How to Trick Suckers Out of Money 101” or “Ridiculous Pricing Methods II”, because before I could even say “boat payment”, the lady at the counter handed me a bill for $85–a mere 20% of the total cost of my visit.
I shudder to think what kind of payment that lab is going to require of me once it comes back.
It might not have been so bad having a human head on my arm to talk to and keep me company. I guess Merrick could do without his roll of medical gauze. I can think of a lot more fun things to do with $85 besides getting scraped by a man I don’t even know.
Well, that was my morning. My afternoon will be spent figuring out how to get my kids into med school. I’m determined that one of them is going into dermatology at some point.