My desk is layered with paper. Unopened mail forms a mountain in one corner. Rejected insurance claims forms a smaller mountain – more like a hill – in the opposite corner. Between is a low valley of checks and billing statements. For the last two hours I've been trying to finish entering the week's payments into the computer, but I keep getting interrupted by nurses, patients, and phone calls. It looks like it is going to be one of those late nights again. I figure I have about three hours worth of work to finish up. It's an hour before my supposed quitting time.
I glance out through a small window to see a near-empty waiting room. Only two patients remain. One of them, I already know, will be quick. She is a 16-year old girl who bashfully asked upon her arrival if the Doctor was female. This tells me that she wants a boob job. She will go in, whine about her life being miserable because she's got a flat chest, and then Doctor Polichvich will give it to her polite but straight.
The second patient will be quick too. She's back for a follow-up. The woman received breast reduction surgery two weeks ago, and she is back for the standard two-week follow-up appointment. Follow-ups take only a few minutes – assuming the Doctor does not discover an infection or other complication.
I work as a receptionist in a Doctor's office. Most people think a receptionist just calls out your name when your turn comes up to see the doctor. Actually, it carries a lot more responsibility than that, especially when you work in a small, private practice like I do. I also carry the responsibility for the medical files, billings, schedule, and answering the phone – plus I call out the name of the occasional patient when their turn comes up to see the doctor.
I work for Doctor Susan Polichvich. Her specialty is reduction mammaplasty – which means she's essentially boob doctor to you and me. She specializes in breast reduction and enlargement surgery, and that is how I first met her. Not for a boob job like the 16-year old in the waiting room, but just the opposite. I walked into her office about two months ago to ask about breast reduction surgery.
I am cursed – or blessed, depending on who you ask – with a set of double-D tits. I loved them when I was younger. I found a big set of tits were terrific when I wanted to get noticed or have a conversation with the most gorgeous stud in the room. They still work wonders, but as I got older my priorities matured. Often, I found my tits caught me the wrong kind of man. And then there is all that weight on my chest, plus the way the bra straps chaff my shoulders. So, on a whim one afternoon as I was driving home from my last day of work, I stopped to ask about getting them pared down to size.
She gave it to me polite but straight, just like she will do for the 16-year old. First, there are medical dangers. Breast surgery is a relatively simple operation, but putting someone under the knife always involves risk. Second, there is cost. Doctor Polichvich is cheap, and she charges $2,000 a pair. Third, virtually no insurance covers the expense. Unless a medical need exists – like breast cancer, for example – insurance companies don't pay for cosmetic procedures. That was the real clincher for me, the cost, especially just after I was laid off my job as a receptionist in a dentist's office.
I was ready to leave dejected, but not quite. "In every cloud," as my Grandmother always used to say, "there's a silver lining." Sometime during my conversation in Doctor Polichvich's office, I mentioned that my now former employer retired and I just lost my job. He let me go home early on my last day, and that is why I had time to stop by and do a little "boob shopping." Lucky for me, Doctor Polichvich just happened to be looking for replacement receptionist for her own practice. Her receptionist gave a two-week notice just one week before. Polichvich needed a replacement, but she had been too busy to advertise or to interview. She asked if I wanted the job on the spot.
* * * *
"Next patient Martha," One of the nurses pokes her head in through the doorway.
"Lucy!" I stand to call the 16-year old. "The doctor will see you now. If you still want to go in?"
She takes a deep breath and nods to me.
I take the clipboard with her chart – which isn't much of a chart because it's her first and probably only visit – and show her the exam room.
"I'm going to see the female doctor, right?" She questions nervously.
"We have only one doctor here," I explain. "And yes, she is still female. Just try to relax. She's real nice."
"Do I need to undress or anything?"
"Not yet," I tell her. "A nurse will be with you shortly. She'll ask some basic medical questions, and then she'll let you know if you need to get undressed or not."
The young girl gives me a nervous nod.
I hang her chart on a hook beside the door, and do a quick change of the sign to say, "occupied."
One down; one to go. Maybe I can get out earlier than I think. I take a quick glance into the waiting room to see the follow-up patient still waiting. I had hoped she maybe got tired of waiting and decided to leave, but no such luck. At least nobody else joined her. We sometimes get surprise patients at the end of the day. I hate it when patients think they can stroll in right at 5:00 PM and expect to see the doctor. The sign on the door says we close at 5:00 PM. That means everyone in the office is supposed to leave at five, not that the last appointment is at five.
I sit back down to try to finish entering the checks into the computer. Most offices would hire a consultant to do this, but Doctor Polichvich can't afford one. She refuses to "use my talent as a plastic surgeon to cater exclusively to the rich," as she puts it. That's part of the reason she located her office in what I call the underprivileged side of town. We sit in a strip mall with a liquor store on one side and a donut shop on the other. I don't know how many square feet we occupy, but I can say the waiting room sits just 6 patients and we have only 2 exam rooms. The dentist I used to work for had more space than this.
As for my own office, it isn't much either. I long ago concluded the builders must have added it as an afterthought. The walls form a triangle with my desk parked tight up against one wall, the door to the exam rooms occupies the second, and a small window looking out into the waiting room sits in the third. I have to always keep an eye out into the waiting room to make sure no inebriated liquor store customer walks in by mistake.
"Excuse me," A deep, masculine voice interrupts my progress. "I hope you can help me."
I glance at the clock on the computer. "4:45 PM" "Another last minute customer," I think silently to myself, but then realize the voice comes from a man.
And what a man! I look over to see a set of deep blue eyes glair down at me from the open window. He looks gorgeous, a beautiful smile centered on a handsome face. On his head sits a mop of long, blond hair. His chin supports a cute dimple in the center. And those blue eyes! I can't get over those deep, blue eyes!
"I sure hope I can," I answer more assertively than I should. "I mean yes, are you here to pick someone up?"
The words sound strange coming out of my lips. I hope he is here to pick me up, but then I think of the 16-year old I just showed inside. If this is her boyfriend, a boob job might very well be worth the expense.
"No, actually I'm here to see the doctor," He corrects me.
"Oh! Then you must be an acquaintance," I conclude. I wonder if he is her new boyfriend. Susan – I mean Doctor Polichvich – never told me about this one!
"No, no acquaintance," He corrects my assumption. "I've never met her before. I'm here as a patient."
This confuses me. A male patient to see a boob doctor? It doesn't make sense. There actually is such a thing as breast reduction surgery for a man. The medical term is Gynecomastia, but this man is obviously in no need of Gynecomastia. He already has the perfect body. I've been working for Susan six weeks now, and this is her first male patient.
"Excuse me," I lower my voice to speak more discretely. "I don't think you understand. You see, Doctor Polichvich is a plastic surgeon who specializes in the female breast. You know, like breast enlargement, reduction, or plastic surgery after a mastectomy. This is her outpatient office."
He smiles back at me. It is a beautiful smile. I only wished it belonged to a brighter guy. But then I suppose he doesn't need to be bright, not with his good looks and all. I hear men talk about dizzy blonds. I think this must be the equivalent in the male variety.
