Dispatches from the Disabled List

I received an early Christmas present from the US Healthcare System.  As I opened the box it came in, I discovered another box.  Inside that was---wait for it---yet another box.  I continued to drill down in my Cardboard Russian Nesting Doll until I found the last box.  Inside was---nothing.   Some context is required to see the gallows humor in all of it.  It all started with my Urologist, who wanted an MRI of my prostate due to an explosive growth in my PSA from somewhere in the 3.0 range to 8.98.  Since I take finasteride, a drug designed to shrink the prostate over time, the true PSA is actually double the 8.98, or 17.96.  The technical term for that reading is "HOLY SHIT!" Possessing a whiz-bang pacemaker that is capable of allowing MRIs, I began the process of getting one.  And that's when the boxes began to multiply.  First off, my Urology practice has a relationship with a hospital that doesn't have a relationship with Medtr...

As Dennis Miller is fond of saying--"I don't want to get into a rant here, but..." Well, I DO want to get into a rant.  I've been ranting for several years now.  It's about time, and in particular the value of said time.  My soapbox is cleaned, shined and freshly painted.  Time to get on it: It's no secret that waiting is the coin of the realm when we go to our healthcare providers.  We make appointments, show up early for those appointments, then wait.  And wait.  Past our "appointment" time.  And the longer I wait, the higher my already-high blood pressure goes.  It's golf course tee times writ large.  Too many players, not enough space (physical and chronological) between them.   I spend a lot of time in healthcare providers' offices.  I want to spend less time there, and the best way for that to happen is to make an appointment, see the provider(s), then go home.  But once that "appointment" is made, the process b...

I visited my urologist the other day.  Like so many of my medical providers, my urologist has hundreds of patients, so I actually met with his Nurse Practioner. (NP)  With other providers it's a Physician's Assistant (PA), or even, sometimes, the actual doctor.  I don't give it any nevermind because I'm sure that the NP or PA (should it be P'sA?  It's like the plural for RBI.  Shouldn't it be RsBI? I digress, which is my wont) or MD has notes somewhere that everyone contributes to, and if not I have my memory (which is still decent, Allah/Xenu/Vishnu/Jesus be praised).   My NP assumed a somewhat somber tone, and told me my PSA was 8.98.  Since I'm medicated for my Benign Prostate Hyperplasia (BPH), that  8.98 is doubled for reference purposes, meaning it's almost 19.   This is where people get nervous and begin to be careful about what they say and what words they use.  And what's the word everyone stays away from?  Yep, C...