What began as a convenient courtesy—the doctor’s office reminder call—is quickly turning into a very inconvenient game of appointment roulette.
I was driving along minding my own business a couple of days ago, when the phone rang. (I have Bluetooth in the car, by the way.) It was the hospital at which I’ll be having a routine procedure done some time or another in August, and the caller wanted to know if I could confirm the procedure by telling her the date and the doctor.
Why, no. No, I can’t. Not without looking at my calendar which I won’t do because I’m driving. So, she asked me if I could confirm my birth date. Why, yes. Yes, I can. I don’t have to look that up, but how about starting there? Then, I was asked to confirm my address and best phone number and emergency contact upon which I was told that I was now preregistered for the registration call that will be placed at some point. Naturally, once I arrive for the procedure, they’re going to ask me the same ding-dong questions anyway, but who am I to question medical science?
And all this for a procedure that will take place on August 13. I know that now because I looked it up. I still don’t remember the doctor’s name, but given the procedure, one that everyone over 50 is supposed to have every 3-10 years, I don’t think he’s interested in going out to lunch once he’s finished.
This is the same medical system that routinely has its Robot Reminder call on a Friday or Saturday evening or as I like to refer to them, The Evenings I’m Least Likely to Be In. Of course, the fear is that if I don’t answer, or if I don’t hit #1 or type the letter A to confirm, or if I don’t do the hokey pokey and turn myself around, that the Robot Reminder will cancel my appointment.
My buddy Al recently received a reminder text from his dentist about an upcoming appointment. He texted back that he remembered and would be there, but when he arrived the receptionist told him that his appointment had been given to someone else because he hadn’t responded. He pulled out his phone and showed her his confirmation response at which time he was told that because he didn’t call to confirm, his appointment was canceled.
Al is now searching for a new dentist.
It’s nice that our doctors would like to remind us about appointments, but if we’re going to be terrorized by appointment-canceling robots, I’d like to go back to the old-fashioned paper appointment cards, please.