Methodist vs. Ghetto Clinic

This little picture to your left is the reason why I am able to blog at 5:06pm from home. The federal government closed at 3pm today due to the severe weather alert, so we got to leave too. We are supposedly getting 10 inches of snow tonight, ro, ro. I'll keep you posted.

In other news, I was tired of dirty looks on the metro and comments at work every time I sneezed or coughed, so I finally decided to go to the doctor yesterday. I still do not have any doctors here in DC and the idea of replacing my Methodist ones breaks my heart, but what can I do? I can't fly to Houston every time I get sick...

I started asking around for recommendations. Turns out every internist's office that I called could not see me for at least a month, so I resorted to calling a nearby clinic that a colleague recommended. They did not have any appointments, but they accepted walk-ins, I asked how long the wait would be and they assured me it was not bad, if I went early enough. So, as soon as I hung up, I left work and zoomed over. When I got there, there were only two girls waiting, so I expected it to be relatively quick. The place was about a mile and a half from work and in the middle of a residential neighbourhood, it was not fancy, not dirty, just alright, decent. I was so blessed to work at such a beautiful hospital before, with amazing doctors and this will probably affect all of my medical experiences from here on out. I cannot compare, because I will ALWAYS be disappointed.

As I sat in the waiting area, more and more people arrived, sick people, bleeding people, limping people. It reminded me of a minor emergency clinic. Not even 30 minutes had gone by and all the chairs in the waiting area were taken. I had a feeling this experience would be blog worthy, so I secretly took a picture with my phone while waiting, cough, cough, click, click. Well, to make the long story short, I waited for 2 HOURS. The only thing that prevented me from walking out was that I had already paid my co-pay, I really did want my z-pack (9 days with a cold/cough starts to get old) and I was getting a faint internet signal from the coffee shop next door, which allowed me to e-mail with Leticia :)

I was FINALLY called into the little ghetto clinic room and a male nurse asked for my height and weight (note did not weigh and measure me) and asked me what was wrong. I told him that I knew they were really busy and that all I needed were those little pink miracle pills (I sounds like a drug addict). He left and I waited some more; it reminded me of the Seinfeld episode that makes fun of the fact that doctor's office love making you wait in the waiting area forever, then you get all excited because your name is called, only to find yourself waiting in another little room again, with the door shut and less magazine options than before. Finally, after a while, an Indian doctor came in. He asked me all the usual, but then started asking about my job title, my company and even my salary!?! He explained that he is looking for someone just like me, to do PR for the clinic, outreach and "calm patients down in the waiting area". He offered to pay me a "little more than what you make now" and told me to think about it. I politely declined his ever so tempting offer and decided just to take him up on the antibiotics. Who knew? Upper respiratory infection diagnosis and job offer combo.

Clinic (above)                                                                   Methodist (radiance above)