The ice storm cometh

They threatened and, for once, it came. Not on a scale of 1998, but still impressive enough. There isn't much worse than freezing rain for someone with dodgy hips. So Mrs Ottawacker was on the "ferrying of Ottawacker Jr. to and from school" duty and I, I waited for the call from my rheumatologist. 

Now I have already had my suspicions about said "specialist" and they were confirmed in all their glory today. The man is an absolute arse. Having had his office call yesterday to set up the 10:00am phone appointment, he called at 11 and asked why I wanted to see him. Third strike was when he hadn't got a clue who I was or what was wrong with me. Now, I tend not to get too angry with people, especially those whose expertise I might rely on, but I was close this time. 

So I tried to help him out. 
"It's in the file which should be in front of you," I said.
"Waffle waffle waffle,"
"I don't know why you wanted to call," I said. 
"You wanted to speak to me," he said.
"No, believe me, I really didn't."

Back and forth. All the while, I imagine he was reading the file, because 2-3 minutes in, he said: 
"Anyway, it is about those bone density results. They were normal."
"Good," I said. "I'd assumed they were because it's been 2 months since the scan and you hadn't called."
This, he ignored.

"Now what did the technician say about the fractured disc in your spine?"
"She didn't," I said. "She wouldn't. She sends the results out to you. You are supposed to tell me. You haven't. I had the x-ray before the bone density scan. Again, I assumed everything was OK as you hadn't been in touch." Voice raising in volume.

"Well," he said. "I only get the interpretation of the x-ray. There was no mention of a fracture this time around. But if I look back to 2017, there was a fracture with "significant height loss" between discs."
"But it's not there now?"
"I don't know."
"Who does know?"
"The radiologist. But there is no note about it in the report. What did you need to get done?"

At this point, Mrs. Ottawacker looked up from her desk two rooms away and met my eyes over the landing. I realized I was getting irate, but somehow it didn't seem to matter.
"You were the one who ordered the x-ray," I said. "You were the one who sent the instructions for an x-ray and bone density scan. Can't you see in your notes what you asked for?"
"I asked for a scan of your back and an x-ray of T12," he said. 
"Right. So what did you get as a result?"
"There was no comment about the T12 in the notes," he answered.
"So have you followed up? Have you asked what the issue is?"
"I tell you what, why don't I give the X-ray clinic a call and ask them to reinterpret the x-rays? Then I'll get back to you. Are you strill taking the Actinel?"
"What?"
"I prescribed Actonel for you last time."
"No you didn't."
"Let me see. Right, well, if there is a fracture, we'll need to prescribe Actonel because nothing predicts a future vertebral fracture better than an existing vertebral fracture."
"So?"
"So, I'll follow up and get back to you."

Livid, I was, livid. This is no fresh-faced-out-of-med-school idiot, he is a rheumatologist with 30 years experience. What a complete and utter ham-shanker.

How was your day?":