First Choice Clinic set up an eye exam for me at the Eye Institute. I had to reschedule, as nobody asks ME when I can go to these things, and the first appt. was too early to make by bus.It took 3 hours to get there. The Albq. bus schedule makes no mention of the fact that the original bus I was on, #36, automatically becomes the #50 when it reaches the Alvarado Transit Center. the #36 comes within a block of my house, but only runs 1x/hour. I got on it at 10 am, for a 1:30pm appt. It goes on a long, loopy trip and comes back to an intersection at Rio Grande & Central, where I transferred to a Route 66 bus. I was going to transfer from there to the #50 at the University and take that to the Institute.
I took myself out for a very nice brunch at the Olympia Cafe. As I ate and listened to "Never-on-Sunday"-esque music, I thought about how much ancient Greek culture still influences modern life in the USA, even though we rarely ever think about modern Greece. I wish the Romans hadn't dominated, with their don't-care-about-your-commrads, mechanical army style. Greeks were encouraged to LOVE their fellow soldiers. 'course, they treated women like chattel, but who hasn't?
Anyway, I figured a craptacular burger at Mickey D's, next door, would have cost the same as the chicken in cinnamon sauce, over a bed of pilaf, served with a mixed salad with feta and a pita which I chose. I ordered 2 lemon custards (I'm NOT going to try to spell THAT!) to go. They put them in styrofoam clam shells, inside a paper bag.
I caught the #50 south for a few blocks to the grocery (#50 makes a loop to the airport and back, so I thought I'd have time to pick up a few things and catch it going north). I got my groceries and wheeled my shopping cart near the bus stop. I opened my wheeled backpack to put things in it and discovered the custard had been smothered in honey/lemon juice sauce, which now coated everthing in my pack. I packed the custards in a plastic grocery bag, washed things off as best I could with my water bottle and waited for the bus. I must've just missed the bus. I saw the next one pass me, going south to the airport, and had to wait for that one to return. I stood out there for about half an hour, waiting.
I was still about a half hour early to my appt. I washed my rain jacket in the ladies' room sink. My appt. letter was sticky with honey and I apologized profusely to the receptionist as I explained.
Now, nobody told me what the procedures would be. I didn't know I'd be blind when I left, or I'd have worn better walking shoes and brought my cane. I certainly wouldn't have had a load of groceries to manage on the bus home. I would have brought dark sunglasses.
The nurse found pressure in both eyes. That's an indication of glaucoma, as I understand it. The nurse also saw how my eyes don't adjust right when one is covered for a while and then uncovered. I've had double vision for decades. My left eye is very weak, as I close it to read and watch tv. She saw how pronounced it was.
Well, Lavato walked in. He didn't test for eye pressure, but decided I had no swelling, anyway (huh?). He did the same double vision test the nurse did, but passed the vision obstructor past my eyes so quickly, it appeared almost transparent to me, and the effect was minimal. He said nothing was wrong.
As near as I can tell, the NURSE looked at my EYES. The DOCTOR looked at my medicaid and medicare, and based his diagnosis accordingly.
I literally had to beg to get someone to put dialation reversal drops in my eyes afterward. Everybody was dragging their feet. I kept explaining I felt a blinding migraine coming on and that I still had an hour of buses home. If I missed the bus that was due in 10 mins, I'd have to wait, in the sun, for an hour for the next one! I had goats to feed. I needed to get back before the migraine got bad, if it did.
I had to beg a guy outside, talking on his cell phone, to help me get to the bus stop, as all I could see was fuzzy, white glare. Nobody gave me eye shades.
I heard Lavato in the hall, talking to a patient, "You've been a very good girl. You behaved yourself very well."
Of course, I thought he was talking to a child.
Out walked an OLD Navajo woman: hair in traditional tie, long skirt, the whole thing. I don't even know if she spoke English. Her head was down, mortified.
How DARE he talk to a Dine elder in such a disrespectful manner! I was furious.
All the medical staff there insisted in speaking to me in terms of endearment, too: "Dear, sweetheart, darling, honey...."
You are NOT my lover, my parent, my friend! You are a medical professional, and you should speak to me with respect. Address me as Ma'am or as Ms. _______. Do NOT treat me like a child, a defective or a pet! It does NOT reassure me. It doesn NOT ingratiate you to me. It alarms me and it insults me. You don't know me well enough to assume such language is appropriate. Stop being so familiar and act like a professional!
Basically, I felt like I was being treated by Wal*Mart associates and conquistadores.
I see Lavato did time at Harbor in Los Angeles County. Some of the poorest people have to go there. He learned, years ago, not to respect low income people, but to leach from them for his practice. We're meat. Period. He doesn't care about our well being. He cares about the bottom line.
At this point, I don't care if someone pokes me in the eye with a stick, I'll never go back there.
I got home, fed the goats immediately, washed off my backpack and its contents, peed, got a cold drink and called Ma, in that order.
They never warned me the eyedrops hurt -- BAD. They didn't warn me they were coming at my eyeball with a lighted stick. They didn't explain ANYTHING to me. They processed me. I had to BEG for them to tell me what they were doing to MY BODY!
You wanna know why the poor don't get health care? Beyond the crappy options re: medicaid and medicare, beyond the lack of decent transportation to inaccessible facilities, beyond the INSISTANCE of institutions to book appts without consulting the consumers, beyond the lack of follow up or access to testing, etc because insurance won't cover it -- poor people are treated like mentally defective LIVESTOCK!
The healthcare providers are suspicious of us, disrespectful to us, abusive, neglectful, arrogant.
It was a simple errand: go for an eye exam.
It turned out to be SIX HOURS on the bus, humiliation, trauma and insult for a 90 minute exam, where the dr. pretends everything's normal.
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