University Medical Care

Don’t. Just don’t. This place is a nightmare. It was bad before I even walked in, since there’s nowhere to park in the lot. Then, when I got in, the television was tuned to Judge Joe Brown, and the waiting area smelled like cigarette smoke (although that may have been the guy next to me).
The floors in every room were disgusting, and somehow the doors were, too.
The girl who did my «health survey» didn’t ask me any more than one-​fifth of the questions, and was unclear on whether or not cancer was a genetic disorder. Then she giggled when I mentioned self-​screening for testicular cancer.
The doctor refused (like, out of shame) to examine a problem that I wanted to have examined, and then fought me on being referred to a sports medicine specialist for a debilitating shoulder problem that I’ve been experiencing — because it’s expensive. But then went ahead (literally while I was telling him not to) and wrote me a prescription for something I can get over the counter.
He somehow couldn’t draw blood from my median cubital vein (you know, the one that every doctor has used on everyone ever) and instead had to go through my basilic vein, which was incredibly painful. And I’m literally a 2-​dozen time blood donor. I’ve never had that problem. Then he cleaned up my blood that he’d dripped on the table with Lysol — I’m real not sure about that, either.
Also, when I walked into his … «office,» another patient’s medical records were still visible on a large screen facing me. So, I knew more about his recommendations about that patient than I did about my own, because he conversed with the «nurse» (the tee-​hee-​wieners girl) about me in Amharic.
Then, I got harassing phone calls about my bill before I got my bill, and when I called to pay, the girl couldn’t tell me how to pay online. She kept telling me no. Like, «no.» I finally had to go figure it out myself.
The receptionists are cute, though. So, there’s that. But seriously, DO. NOT. GO. HERE.
EVER.