Thursday, July 03, 2008

If I Wrote A Letter...

I am not a letter-writing sort of person.  You know the type I mean.  There are people out there who like to write letters to various agencies, companies and entities in an effort to bring certain matters to their attention or maybe to offer a little constructive criticism.  I am not a letter writer...but I think about the letters I might write were I so inclined.  

For example, if I were to scribble off a helpful missive to the nice people at The Women's Center For Poking, Prodding And General Invasiveness, I might include these sorts of things:

*Your facility is lovely.  And the parking?  Well that is just superb!  However, I might suggest a little more in the way of signage.  Outside, you've done remarkably well.  Inside seems to be another story.  I am certain that combining the offices of Girly Stuff and MRI Stuff was a practical decision.  But it couldn't hurt to make a note lest you have a hapless patient such as myself wandering around in areas where I probably shouldn't be in search of a reception desk.  I am apparently incapable of realizing that the one desk at the front serves both functions.

*It may also be helpful if you had volunteers manning this desk who were not reading novels with women heaving their bosoms all over the place on the covers.  Even when I did manage to locate the highly visible and yet grossly mislabeled desk, I had to wait until a chapter was finished.  However, the reader/greeter was so apologetic and sweet about the whole thing that I really couldn't be mad at her.  Plus it did sort of look like a good book...

*Your intake specialists are amazing and competent beyond anything I had a right to expect.  I might suggest, however, that you ask her to refrain from labeling her pens.  I could understand if she needed to put a tag on there that read:  Bertha's Pen...do not steal!  I am a rather notorious pen snatcher.  I don't mean to be.  Yet I always seem to be strolling off with them.  However, putting a label on a pen that says, "PEN (happy face)" implies that your staff cannot identify their office supplies.  There are many, many office supplies in the intake office.  And they were all used rather skillfully.  But, I just couldn't seem to get past that whole deal with the hand lettered pen name tag.

*I really hate to admit this.  But I feel how I feel.  I can't help but think that The Women's Center should be a No Boys Allowed Zone.  Having the MRI services in there makes this impossible and greatly interferes with my vision of the place as a sort of clubhouse for just us gals.  The men should have to wait in the car and listen to baseball, spit or do whatever it is that boys do when left to their own devices.  There should be an air of mystery about the place.  And an alarm that goes off whenever a boy tries to come in which results in his being whisked away by armed guards, never to be seen again.

(For the record, I later rethought this one.  They do lots of procedures there and I suppose there are women who would like the comforting presence of a spouse or buddy of the boy persuasion.  But, c'mon.  You can see how I might think it was wicked cool to have our own Girl Cave.  It is also entirely possible that I am being influenced by the inclusion of a boy in my own formerly all-girl-all-the-time home.  Boys are different and confusing.)



We are continuing to have exposure issues and no amount of explaining the joys of modesty is having any effect whatsoever.

*Your waiting area is beautiful.  The coffee smelled just amazing!  I especially liked the part where the sweet older lady with the accent that makes me want to just pack up and travel to wherever she may have spent her formative years comes around with that cart.  And she was offering us all treats!  Oh happiest of days!  Snacks while we wait!  Then she broke my heart (in her fetching accent) by telling me that they were only for the people who weren't patients.  Then I was sad.

*I realize that many of the issues which are considered to be feminine in nature are really those which cross gender.  I don't mean to be sexist.  However, I can't help but think that the technician who came out to get me for my bone density screening and mammogram was not playing the odds very well when she called for, "Mr. Sheep."  

*I would also suggest that you find another term for use on your Schedule Of Procedures form.  To call it a "routing slip" and have me present it to the staff  makes me feel like a package.  I just know that there is a routing number out there somewhere and that anyone can log on and see just where I am in the process.

*You should give some serious thought to giving the bone screener a raise, by the way.  Her willingness to express disbelief when I gave her my weight was rather kind.  I'm not sure how I felt about having to get on the scale to prove it, though.  The day before a holiday is not one where you want your weight confirmed.  But it was still nice of her to doubt me and assume it was less.  

*If you need the name of a good Velcro supplier, please feel free to contact me.  I'd be happy to hook you up.  Because I know what it's like to be unhooked.  Velcro that actually sticks to itself is rather key if you are going to keep your little gown closed while strolling the halls of The Women's Center Which Is Also The MRI Place And Full Of Boys.  

*The switch to digital mammography is probably a good one, even if it means I can no longer go to the satellite office that is really close to my home.  But could you have maybe thought to bring over the nice mammogram lady?  You know the one...the really gentle woman?  I like her.  Not to put down The Mammonator that you have working in the new location.  I'm certain that she is a delight in other situations.  And I sort of don't want her knowing that I complained...you have my address on file.  

(The less said the better on this, I suppose.  I shall simply say that, three minutes in, I was willing to share my name, rank, serial number, my invitation to The French Resistance Christmas Party and the location of the Bat Cave.)

*All in all, though, your facility is just wonderful.  I was generally pleased by the speed of service and the staff's overall demeanor.  Most appreciated was the little bit of wait time you allowed me.  It was just enough to do a round or two of sock knitting.  And, even if it wasn't, the nice technicians were more than willing to wait for me to finish up a needle's worth of stitches.  Kudos to you for training them so well in the art of Waiting Room Accommodation.  

That's the kind of stuff I'd probably put in my letter if I were that type of person.  Or if I could lift my right arm.  Which I can't do as effectively as I used to right now.  What with the twisting and contortions followed by the not-so-gentle ministrations of The Mammonator, I am a little bit lame at the moment.

And I didn't even get any snacks.  Or a pen.

SA

10 comments:

Mel said...

Better to have your weight confirmed the day before a holiday than the day after, I say.

And as for whatever it is boys do when left to their own devices, I think that one´s better left untouched. And yes, I did mean to say that.

kmkat said...

I am, er, well-endowed, so I think a mammo may be slightly less uncomfortable for me. So I tell the tech to do whatever she needs to do to get a good picture. I really don't want them to miss anything.

What really needs to happen is some kind of Star Trek technology, where the tech just waves a little wand over your boobs and that's it. Now THAT would be a hit with every woman on the planet.

Julie said...

Mel's right about the weight (I'm just going to take his word for the rest of it). I'd much rather be forced to be weighed the day before Mommy & Daddy Sheep'S BBQ and the consumption of all that cheesy bread (which you'll hopefuly not be serving on your fine china) than on the day after!

Jeanne said...

Oh, I am LIVING for the cat pictures! I just want to tangle my fingers in that belly fur and squeeeeezzzummms! What a cute cat.

Sorry about the Exposure at the Mammocenter. At least they didn't send you home with a photo of said exposure to put side by side with Prometheus'. Do you suppose the pen labeled PEN :-) has an owner who, coincidentally, has the initials P.E.N.? That would be weird.

Yay, holiday!

Knittymama said...

I think you should print the whole thing and send it:-)

Yarnhog said...

Still laughing!

I've never had a mammogram. I'm not yet 40, so my doctor has only recently started asking if "we" are ready to do a mammogram yet. She may be; I am not. And besides, I'm so flat-chested, I'm sure they could see whatever they need to see just by holding me up to a strong light.

trek said...

The Mammonator needs to be subjected to her own *gentle* ministrations. And denied cookies.

Happy 4th, Sheepie! Have an extra B&W Cookie on me today.

catsmum said...

being of the less well endowed persuasion I have to stand there while she scrapes up every spare gram of flesh all the way to my elbows and then says " now don't move"
as if I could without [more] excruciating pain
and people wonder why I'm 2 years overdue for a boob-mashing !!
I was thinking of ringing them next week...
Truly I was
until I read this

Kath said...

I fully support the concept of keeping The Women's Center a Boy-Free Zone. I mean, really, if I need someone there holding my hand I'd much rather have my mother, or a good girlfriend, than a boy of any relation! And after all - it is called "The Women's Center", not "The Center for the Treatment of Women's Medical Issues Where Boys are Welcome".

Geez, and I thought streets full of summer tourists drove me nuts...you win.

Teri S. said...

Oh, too funny! I ran into similar problems last year when I went to a different radiography center. The reception desk was squirreled away in an office-within-an-office and not labeled. And there were men having stuff done. The waiting room was a common waiting room for several different medical practices and (gasp!) had sick people in them. This year, since I had to have a comprehensive squooshing, I went back to the Girl's Cave, which was much nicer. A little farther away from my place of employ, but well worth it.