Every once in a while, I am enlisted to call patients to remind them of their appointments. Now, there are probably a hundred things about this specific job that I could rant about, but today I will focus exclusively on the 96 year old ladies.
First of all, I'm calling to confirm your appointment. And you're old, so you don't remember. But this is a common trait among the over 65, so I'm prepared to not just remind them of an appointment, but the who they're seeing, what for, where we are located, and why they need to be seen. So, I dial the number, and its ringing, and its ringing, and... and they don't answer. And of course they don't have an answering machine, because that would be crazy. But, having called, and failed, I'm left thinking, Betty, where the hell are you? Its quarter to ten on a Tuesday morning, you've been awake for five hours already, and you're 96 years old. Where could you possibly be? Are you dead? because really, that's the only logically explanation here.
Old people make me so angry. Except sometimes they are dead. Which is a bummer.
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