Over time, I’ve come to count on ibuprofen to prevent and treat the migraines. But, as I’m sure you know, this medication increases the risk of GI ulceration, cardiovascular disease and renal disease. Desiring to get off this medication and hopefully improve my headache situation, my doctor and I decided it was time to see a neurologist.

Now, the first comment I can make as patient is that I had to wait a little while to get an authorization to see a headache specialist. Ipreviouslymade it clear at what low esteem I hold the medical insurance industry, and since I have an HMO, authorizations are part of the game - a part I hate.

It finally came the day to see the doctor, which was in the town next door to where I work. I took a few personal hours and drove over to the nondescript medical building where he had his office. When I entered the waiting room, I was a little surprised. The “front office” was hidden behind a frosted-glass sliding window. I signed in, and a very professional person took my insurance card and driver’s license.

I say “professional” here because there’s no better way to describe the office staff. They were all efficient, professional – and without an ounce of personality. Now, from my experience as a podiatrist, I’ve almost always worked with a front office person who had a lot of personality. If you met my current front office lady at Western University, you would instantly love her. She is so full of ebullient personality that it just drips off of her. She’s kind, friendly, smiling, efficient and can be a bad ass when necessary.

After the glass doors closed on my face, I sat down to fill out the pile of documents all new patients have to complete. Unfortunately, these hadn’t been sent to me beforehand, so I had to waste time filling them out in the office. I found it interesting that of all the documents – HIPPA, consent to treatment, insurance information, etc. – there was nothing about my medical history. After filling out the forms, I looked up and realized the waiting room was completely nondescript. A TV on the wall discussed headaches and other medical issues, and the rest of the room was just a box of boringness. I’m not there for the scenery, but come on. Put a picture on the wall, will ya?

I was called back relatively quickly (that was a surprise – I usually wait about 30 minutes for most doctors), and another highly “professional” person took my vitals. I sat on the examination table waiting for the doctor and stared at a small object about 3 feet tall on the top of which was another patient education machine. For some reason, I felt completely unwelcome to actually turn it on and choose a topic.

When my neurologist walked in, I knew I wasn’t going to receive the utmost in customer service. I say that because he walked in holding – yes, you know it – a laptop computer. Here was another fine medical mind destroyed by the computer. I knew what was coming, and my doctor did not disappoint.

He obtained my history efficiently, and in all honesty, he was a nice guy and clearly knew his stuff, though I spent most of the time talking to the top of his head while he entered the info on his mobile boob-tube. In my own practice of podiatric medicine, I just can’t bring myself to look at the computer while in the room with the patient. Since I’m treating another human being I just have to look them in the eye as if they’re a person and not some data to be entered into the EMR. Guess I’m old fashioned.

We finally got to my treatment options and came up with a plan together (that was a good thing!). I was a little disappointed not to receive much education about the etiology or pathophysiology of my migraine diagnosis, but maybe he felt I knew something as a fellow doctor. I left feeling somewhat underwhelmed by the whole experience. Hopefully the medication will work well enough to offset the excessively “professional” experience. I’ll let you know how the follow-up visit goes.

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