By Elaine Carlson

"Thanks for coming to [name of the medical practice] today for your office visit."

I got that message two days after my appointment. I look further and see their question, "How likely is it you would recommend us to a family member or a friend?"

I almost laughed. I sure had an "I can't believe they sent this" experience.

I was a little self-conscious as I signed in at 1:37 PM because my appointment was for 1:30 PM. I tried to reassure myself that I wasn't all that late. I went to the waiting room.

It certainly was a "waiting room." I waited and waited. When I thought I had been there ten hours I checked my watch and saw it was 3:35 PM. Did the office think that making me wait for almost two hours was an appropriate punishment for being seven minutes late?

As soon as I saw one of their workers calling patients I asked her when I would be called. She asked me which doctor I came to see and I told her.

"Well, she isn't here," she said."She is at a hearing."

I may have looked like I didn't understand.

"I will go check to see what's going on."

If the doctor had to go to a hearing I thought the office could at least have called me in the morning to reschedule my appointment. I had driven almost 200 miles to get there. And a small traffic jam was the reason I was late.

I guess no one knew how long the hearing would last but if it was scheduled in the morning maybe the office (the Office Manager?) felt for sure it would be over early enough for her to get to the office just after lunch.

Of course I don't know what happened at the hearing but I guess it is possible a bombastic attorney was asking the doctor the questions and she just wasn't able to leave early enough to be able to see any patients that day.

It wasn't long before a worker came out and walked with me to a room. .

"Hello. I am Becky," she said. "I am going to demonstrate self-catheritization.

"Will I have to do that?"

"The doctor thinks you might need to after the procedure."

She looked through the drawers and cabinets in the room..

"I can't find it," she said. "I'll be back."

She came back in five or seven minutes. But there was nothing in her hands so I knew her search somewhere else (a supply cabinet?) wasn't successful either. She reached into the cupboard and pulled out something which looked like a child's illustrated book and handed it to me.

"Not the same brand," she said. "But still it is the same."

I took the book and opened it.

"But on the front the pictures are all of men."

"That's okay," she said. "They are just male models."

I read the first two pages and then when I flipped over to the next page I saw it. The male model had what looked like a place mat on the area below his waist. And there it was lying on the edge of the mat. He had been photographed but it hadn't been. I wonder if the artist who had done the drawing worked for the company that makes those anatomically correct dolls police and child psychologists use.

"Becky," I say. "Look at this?"

She frowned and picked up the kit and looked at it carefully. Then she turned it over and at the top we both saw the wording "Male Catheter." She put it back on the counter and turned to me. She told me she would tell me what I needed to do.

But before she did some more looking and finally found what she wanted..

She proceeded to very nicely tell me what to do. She told me to put a mirror on the floor ("you can get one at the Dollar Store") and look down as I was putting it in. At first I had a lot of trouble following Becky's instructions but after some practice I was able to insert it.

Things went well and I never needed to use the catheter. And I didn't respond to the survey.