Another trip to the doctor. Another day of having your women about half my age blithely ask if “Pamela” is ready. Another day of my explaining, actually very gently, that the right way to address someone you have not been introduced to–ESPECIALLY someone older than yourself–is as “Mr./Mrs./Smith.”
And here’s the answer: “The new “patient privacy” rules require us to protect your privacy. So we are ordered to call you by your first name. Now, can I have your insurance card, hon?”
How do the rest of you Dopers feel? When receptionists and nurses call you by your first name (or “sweetie” or “hon”) does it make you feel like they are your friends?
Or does it make you feel that they are being impertinent, disrespectful, and condescending?
It’s hard enough to get the medical profession to treat you like an adult ANYWAY; you may have the right to a full explanation of diagnosis and proposed treatment, but my experience is you have to actively pursue questions like: Are there alternatives? How serious are these risks? Can you quantify them? What happens if we don’t do anything? Not to mention the really idiotic medical tech instructions: “Drink forty (yes, 40!) ounces of water in the hour before you show up, and hold it in your bladder.” If there’s a woman in the world who can do that, she should be in a circus sideshow.