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Why didn’t you guys TELL me there was a bad link to Chaz’s shop? Hmmmm??? (I fixed it) And why didn’t I tell you that maybe I could get you a ten percent discount on anything you like there? Maybe. If she lets me.

We saw a movie last night, a French film I took a chance on at Netflicks, called The Choir. We loved it. We also enjoyed Mostly Martha, a German flick from which Without Reservations was taken. Oh, and we’re trying out some BollyWood stuff (love the music). But The Choir? A sweet and sometimes difficult story with wonderful music. Not like BollyWood. Like choir.

I have found out something about Valium. Isn’t that the drug people used to call “mother’s little helper”? Well, if they offer that to you when they are shoving a small tube up the great saphenous vein inside your left leg? Take it. Chew it up (yucky) and take it. I have also found out something else: whatever drug-liking people may think of this stuff, it does nothing for me. Or very little. I will admit, it kind of mellowed out the abject panic I’ve had since I decided to do something about my pregnancy ruined vein. But it didn’t really kick in till Chaz and I hit the bead store on the way home.

She thought I was very funny. I thought my knees were dizzy. But here I am, a few hours later, making sense. (Am I making sense?) And I have great hopes of sleeping very well tonight.

Here is what I hate about dealing with the “health” world:
1) There is a complete separation between the doctor and the price tag. He talks to you and presents these alternatives (I am speaking of experiences I have had over the years), but he doesn’t TELL you that alternative A is going to cost fifty bucks and alternative B is going to cost seven hundred and fifty bucks.

Once, at our old family doctor’s office, this on-staff doctor gave us a big song and dance about a procedure for one of the kid’s ingrown toenail. So we said, “Sure. Why not if it’ll take care of the problem.” He didn’t tell us that it would make the toe look weird for the rest of this kid’s life, or that when we went up to the window to pay, the girl would say, “That’ll be three hundred and seventy five dollars.”

Keep in mind this was like twenty five years ago, so three hundred and seventy five dollars would have bought a lot more then than a family dinner at Olive Garden.

My mouth must have dropped wide open. It doesn’t usually do that. And I said, “NO WAY. I NEVER would have done this if I’d known it would cost this much.” But if I’d asked that doctor, he’d have said, “Duh. I don’t know.” Like did he not sell me on the concept? And he was not the helpful young new age type of doctor who’d be glad to whip down the hall and check on that for you. Luckily, our usual doctor, the one who owned the clinic, liked us and negotiated the price way down. Thus, I did not key his BMW when we left the building to go home.

How many businesses have this model: you walk through the showroom to check out the wares, the salesman explaining the virtues of each product – but there are no price tags. And the salesman has no idea how much any of the things cost. “Just pick out the one that appeals to you. They’ll tell you what to pay when you get to the cashier.” Grocery shopping would really be fun in a place like that, wouldn’t it?

2) When I went to this popular NY dermatologist when I was in college (hoping for dates, and tired of zits), he stuck my face under an X-ray machine and then wanted to give me these shots. I, being a grad student and so no longer afraid of asking questions, said, “What IS this stuff, and what’s it going to do in my body?” This doctor laughed and said to his nurse, “Look who thinks she needs to check up on me.”

3) What do you do when the specialists EVERYBODY recommends aren’t on your insurance list?   So much for free will. (And with universal health care, these things will only get worse.)

What I like when I’m healthing it:

I like to be greeted by the office people like they’re glad to see ME. Like I’m not an intrusion on their day. Like they might even be grateful I’m bringing them business, or like they care what happens to me. Or like I’m more interesting than whatever they’re doing on the computer.

I like not to be left waiting and wondering if my file has been lost. I LOVE being offered a drink or something while I wait – but that’s only happened once. Like, today.

And doctors who talk to you like you are a fellow creature. They explain what they’re doing and why. They ask you questions. They ask about your family. And of course, I like people who really, really know what they’re doing and are gentle and deft in the doing of it.

I like when you get an initial exam, and then the doctor sits and TALKS to you, or they have you sit and watch a video that teaches you all about the thing that concerns you, including detailed info about procedures and about meds they might prescribe, including all possible reactions, drawbacks and results – and stats. And recovery times, and what the routines will entail.

I like it when the office girls give you paper work that explains what everything will cost, comparing it side by side and naming the procedures in English rather than in insurance code. So that you know what you will pay. Period. No extra this or that.

In short, I want to know what I’m getting into. I want to understand the science. I want to GET it. I want to know what I’m buying and what I’m paying for it.

And so I am recommending, to any woman whose veins have taken a beating (that would be all women who have ever been pregnant, crossed their legs, had a desk job – well designed, these great saphenous things) The Intermountain Vein Center. So there you are – a great business model, a really swell staff, and a job well done.

Oh, and it helps to have a good luck charm that an angel makes for you so that you can hold something soft and full of love – just in case.