I used to rage against Bush/Obama/Anyone that I could only afford a ghetto health insurance plan. However, after several positive experiences, I realized a great universal truth: there’s love in the ghetto. I wouldn’t go with any other insurance if it were free (unless I ever need surgery or to spend the night at the hostpital).
I adore the receptionist at my gyno’s office. However, I can’t say the same for the equipment.
“Um, just so you know, your scale is broke.”
I figured, that’s another downside to a ghetto insurance plan.
“No, that’s right, baby.”
Did my jewelry weight five pounds? How heavy is a jean skirt? I had a talk with the doctor it.
“Just so you know, your scales are broken,” I told him.
“You’re probably right,” he replied, while getting all up in my bidness (literally). “How is everything?”
“Everything is fine. However, I’m having some issues in another area. I don’t know if you can help me, but I just have this toe fungus.”
Apparently, gynecologists get tired of looking at the same anatomy. He talked to me about some very overweight clients, and got me a prescription for my toe fungus.
Just for today, I had a great office visit.