Yes, I was annoyed when Dr. A called me on Sunday, asking me to come in to see a patient Monday morning (with the unspoken understanding that I would assume care for her). T. delivered six weeks ago (by Dr M), with a rare complication that required two subsequent minor procedures, one by Dr. M, the other by Dr L. She was later re-admitted by Dr J, and followed by Drs W., M, and A in the hospital. So why call me? Well, it seems that the patient made that request, having met me during antepartum visits. Well, of course--my unimpeachable bedside manner. But doesn't Dr A (or any of the others) have the communication skills to establish a relationship with patients in whatever setting? To make plans and carry them out? Whatever.
So we go to surgery, this time more of a final approach, gratefully not as difficult as predicted, and her uterus remains intact. Meeting her mother in the waiting room afterwards, I noticed a book peeking out of her handbag. Glenn Beck. Dr. A is black. It's not my bedside manner, it's the color of my skin.
ugh
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