My doctor’s office wants to send me some information regarding my supplements since I’ve had a lumpectomy. Most of this is in regards to what to take and what not to take while undergoing radiation therapy and/or Tamoxifen. Also, there will be advice on what to use to manage hot flashes since I can’t take estrogen any longer.
All good and necessary information, and of course I want it. But here’s the thing: this office recently switched from plain old email to yet another technological fustercluck, “the portal.” Through this magical portal flows information between doctor and patient, with nary a person-to-person conversation. How convenient–just not convenient for me. As with so many things medical, the convenience seems to be all theirs.
In order to access this portal, one has to be texted on one’s cell phone to somehow set the parameters on this deal. Now I do not own a SmartPhone, nor do I ever plan to own one. Mine is probably the last existing flip-phone, which takes no pictures, and does not pull up YouTube. All it is is a plain old cell phone, the purpose of which is to call, or be called. And as for texting–I’ve never texted anyone in my life, and don’t plan to now. Oh, I know the principal of it; it just isn’t anything I do on a regular basis; that is, ever.
With this dinosaur of a cell phone, I can’t read the dang messages anyway as the text is so small. If I were to use it during my very long commute, I wouldn’t be able to answer anyway as NH will have a “hands free” cell phone law in place as of July 1st. Fine by me–I wouldn’t be able to read who the call was from unless I switched from my sunglasses to my reading glasses.
So, back to this new and more inconvenient doctor portal deal. The poor young girl on the phone was trying to explain how this whole thing worked, when I interrupted her and said, “Sweetie, listen–I get how the portal works and how to access it. You already have my email address, and you certainly have my home address. How about you just email me?”
Well, no, she said, that wouldn’t work because they are trying to get everyone on board the almighty portal. She again tried to walk me through it. And again, I interrupted her: “Look, can’t you just send me this information by email?” Well, she didn’t think so; you see, they want everyone on the portal. (Sheesh, it’s like the Invasion of the Body Snatchers!)
So this time I asked her to just send the information through the good old US mail system. I asked if they still did that; she said they did. So I guess that in a few days, weeks or months I’ll get my information.
Between you and me–I could just do as she asked and do the damned text and be done with it. But you know what? Considering what I’ve gone through in the last few weeks (please feel free to read my posts “A Surprise – Part(s) 1-8” for details), I just don’t wanna. Saying this, I fully realize what an irritating and recalcitrant old poop I am, but I heartily dislike being shoved through yet one more hoop in the medical system.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it. (Please know that right now I’m sticking my tongue out at the phone.)