While in Iron Mountain on Thursday, I stopped to see Sargie in the Vision Center

June 7, 2013 – Friday

42 degrees/partly cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

It’s a busy time on Pentoga Road. Between finishing the garage floor, preparing for the drive and barn to be paved this coming week, working in the garden, and a gimply knee and visit to the doctor’s office, there’s little time for anything else.

I didn’t write Thursday morning because really, there was nothing to write about. It was wet and cold outside and with my knee throbbing, I spent most of Wednesday in my recliner. I tried teaching Brutus a new trick or two, but most of the time, his attention span fell short and he’d fall asleep.

Brutus's favorite morning place to sleep on those cold days when I start a fire... in front of the wood stove.

I arrived at the hospital early Thursday morning for x-rays. It struck me as odd that the first words from the intake person’s mouth was asking for was my insurance card. Since the program is called, “Alaska Care,” she clicked her tongue and muttered something about never seeing it before and asked aloud, “Do we take this?”

I told her since they were a member of the HPO, they ought to. She had to get up and walk into her supervisor’s office to be certain. It was only after such a guarantee that we proceeded with the niceties like, “Good morning,” or “How are you?” God, we’re becoming a health care-driven society, propelled by money. Makes me mad. I’m fearful the universal health care that was forced upon us will result in even more paperwork and higher prices. If the government’s involved, you know it can’t be good.

It was the same at the doctor’s office. The receptionist at least greeted me in a professional manner, but then immediately asked, “Do you have your insurance card?”

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was a person with a dollar sign stamped on his forehead. I think the kindly doctor/patient relationship that we, of an older generation, experienced in years’ past, is long gone.

The orthopedic surgeon I visited should have taken a few classes in bedside manners. He had none.

The man asked what he could do for me. So much for reading a chart before entering the room. He told me I should have x-rays. I replied that I’d been at the hospital since early morning and they were supposed to be ready for his viewing in his office.

He asked me which knee hurt, what I wanted to do about it, and then, almost lying in his chair during the brief interview, pried himself from it, walked into the hall, then returned three minutes later saying the knee looked good.

The very short, ensuing, conversation covered cortisone shots and an MRI. The good doctor didn’t explain what either does, any long-term ramifications, or a plan for recovery. He said if it was a muscle tear, I’d need an operation. If it was arthritis, I’d need a shot; which did I want? I told him he was the doctor, what did he suggest? He said I probably ought to have an MRI to rule out a torn muscle and if it looked okay, to go ahead and be injected with cortisone. I walked from the examining room ten minutes later discouraged. I don’t like most doctors, their attitudes, or the fees they command. In fact, I haven’t exited a doctor’s office in years that I didn’t wish I’d not have gone.

Though I’m supposed to be scheduled for an MRI sometime next week, I’m not sure I’ll go back. He obviously has enough patients that he can be rude to anyone he chooses. I’d rather not be one of them. My feeling right now is that I’ll find someone who wants to treat patients, not view them as livestock that can be converted into cash.  

I went to therapy Thursday afternoon. It’s called my garden. The Walls of Water surrounding the tomatoes were replaced with cages. Some weeds were plucked and a thorough inspection of all the beds was made, often up close on my hands and knees. The potatoes are beginning to poke through, carrots are making a showing, and the Indian corn continues to sprout. We’ve had plenty of rain. All we need is sunshine and warmth.

Sargie has a long day ahead of her. She’ll be attending a visitation of a family friend before work this morning then will close the Vision Center tonight. Thankfully, she’s off Saturday, but has to work all day Sunday.

I sanded the last of the epoxy that had been applied to the cement end of the park bench. I hope to paint both ends today, cut the treated 2x4’s to fit, and get that project out of the barn.

I’m heading to town first thing this morning to get some boxes from Yooper Brother Mark’s plant. I’ll be putting tools in those so they might be easily moved from the barn this coming week while it’s being paved.

The meadow going towards the back of the property needs cutting. With all the rain we’ve experienced this past week, it’s beginning to look like a hay field.

The cement crew will be back this afternoon to move the contents back into the garage. The owner said he’s going to spend a couple of hours grading the drive in preparation for next week’s paving.

The garage floor has cured and ready to be used

Whew, I’m tired just reading the list of today’s projects. I’m not surprised. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…