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All was going relatively well during my visit to the local vampires to have my blood labs checked. When my name was called, no gender pronoun was attached to it. Such as the dreaded “Mister” word. The nurse simply came through the door and screamed my last name. In no way warm and fuzzy but effective which is all I really cared about.
After they quickly took my blood samples I sat back down as directed and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally I followed the instructions on a sign in the waiting room which said if you waited more than fifteen minutes, go up and check in with the receptionist. I should have known trouble was coming when I had to interrupt her being on her phone. She then rapid fired questions at me asking who set up my second visit with my new primary provider. Then grew frustrated when I told her I didn’t know who I talked to. At that point I should have known to be prepared for the worst. It turned out just not being seen by my new doctor right then wasn’t going to be the biggest complaint I had. It came when she used the dreaded “M” word with me. In other words she called me “Mister”.
Photo by Javier Martínez on Unsplash
When I promptly corrected her through her thick glass window, either she chose to ignore me , didn’t care or was doing it all on purpose because she promptly turned to the woman next to her and called me “him”. Again I corrected her.
It all ended up as my appointment was shifted to a video visit a little later on that day. The whole affair just turned out to…
