I entered the office. I was nervous, but I reminded myself the reviews were unbeatable. People raved about how Dr. Mill had saved countless lives. I only needed someone to look at the rash on my arm, but if insurance covers it, why not go to the best?
A gorgeous secretary sat directly in front of me. She had eyes like moons and eyelashes big enough to be fans. Her frosted blonde hair bounced on her shoulders as she turned her head.
“Hello and welcome to Dr. Mill’s practice.”
“Hi, I’m Manny.” I said.
“Ok great. We are thrilled that you made an appointment. I’m going to have you fill out this questionnaire first, and then we’ll bring you in.”
The lobby was filled with sofa chairs. On the coffee tables were portable lap-desks. The fridge in the corner was stocked with every variety of soda. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air. A tranquil fish tank occupied an entire wall. I went over to the coffee maker, found the hot water spout, and brewed myself some chamomile tea to calm my nerves.
I got comfortable in one of the sofa chairs and began the questionnaire. All the usual questions: smoking, drinking, family history. I handed it back to the receptionist. “Thanks, Sugar.” She said with a wink. “Connie will take you to your waiting room now.”
I was surprised by how quick it was to get a room, but I certainly did not complain.
This room housed another comfy lounge chair, and the usual counter with medical supplies and the evaluation bed. I took a seat in the lounge chair and examined the various posters that decorated the wall. One read, “114,000: the number of men, women and children on the national transplant waiting list as of August 2017.” Another said, “One Donor Can Save Eight Lives.” A third one said, “20 people die each day waiting for a transplant.”
After another surprisingly short wait, the doctor knocked and came in. “Well hello there,Manny. My name is Dr. Mill.” he said with a smile. “Are you nervous? You look a little nervous.”
“Oh? just a little I guess. I’m always nervous around doctors.”
“Well you have nothing to worry about with me.”
I was quickly won over by his charm. His smile was infectious. I quickly felt at ease.
“Tell me, what seems to be the problem?”
“Well I have this rash on my elbow that won’t go away. I was wondering if you would take a look.”
“Sure, I’d be happy to. But first let me just check a few things.”
First he checked the usual things: body temperature, heart rate, respiratory rate, and blood pressure.
“It’s just my elbow.” I tell him.
“Yes, yes. I’ll get there, but first I have a few more things to check.”
Then he went above and beyond by checking things my old doctor didn’t bother with: asking if I was in pain, checking my knee reflexes, looked in my nose, eye, and ear, checked my blood oxygen level, evaluated my breath with a tube thing, and took a small blood sample to check my glucose.
“Did you know, only 3 in 1,000 people die in a way that allows for organ donation?” He asked me.
“I had no idea. That’s terrible. It’s a very low percentage.” I say.
“Yes I agree.” he said.
Finally he asks me questions about my kidneys, heart, liver, pancreas, intestines, and lungs.
“They’re fine, doctor. Honest. Could you look at my elbow now?”
I roll up my sleeve and he takes a look.
“Oh that’s nothing. That’s just eczema. I’ll write you a prescription for a skin cream and get that cleared right up.”
Relief washes over me like a waterfall. I let out a heavy breath. I was worried for nothing!
“Now if you just wait a moment, I’ll have a nurse bring out a stretcher. If you don’t mind, would you test it out for us? We want to see if it’s comfortable.” He waved a nurse down from the hallway. Of course I was happy to comply. He’s a doctor and he’s just done me a huge favor by diagnosing my ailment. She brings in the stretcher and gets me situated.
“Here. These straps aren’t too tight are they? Can you still move? I’ll just make it a little tighter. Now this is a sedative. I would like to say, on behalf of all people on the waiting list, thank you, you are extremely selfless”
“Wait? What?” I screamed. I struggled, but it was no use.
“You’re a perfectly healthy individual. I can save 8 people with your organs. I’m going to be a hero! And so are you! Thank you again for your donation. Goodnight!”