Nurse-Practitioners

Cliff and I got into a discussion the other day about nurse-practitioners. I wondered aloud just what sort of training is required to obtain this title.

I'm glad there is such a vocation, because I remember a time when it was almost impossible to get into our doctor's office without a two-week wait; by the time your appointment came around, you were either over your malady, or in the hospital. Thanks to the fact that there are now three N.P.'s employed in that office, it's possible to be seen on the same day you call, if you need quick attention.

Let's face it, most visits to the doctor are for fairly minor maladies. Often, I know the correct diagnosis for my problem; I just can't get whatever medicine it takes to fix it. Why waste a doctor's time on bladder infections or sinusitis or ear-wax buildup? The nurse-practitioner can handle these things just fine, and write whatever prescription is necessary.

If she feels a patient has a more serious problem, the doctor is right there for consultation. It was a nurse-practitioner who sensed a serious problem when Cliff was there with the "indigestion" that turned out to be heart trouble. She went down the hall and consulted Dr. D., who had her schedule an appointment for Cliff with a cardiologist. Within three days, Cliff was in the hospital for C.A.B.G. surgery. Four, count 'em, four bypasses.

Anyway, here's what Google told me about what it takes to be a nurse-practitioner:

Moving right along....

Figuring it best to get that rather questionable Wordless Wednesday moved on down the page, I'll do a "this-n-that" entry.

First of all, my husband and I are a little miffed at the staff at our local doctors' office.

Cliff recently had a bit of a minor physical problem. We saw the nurse-practitioner about it, and got the problem fixed. She asked that he come back in two weeks and get a blood test to make sure his good-bad cholesterol ratio was where it should be (to see if the recent addition of Niaspan is doing its job), and to make sure his blood count was in the proper range; recent tests showed him to be slightly anemic. Also, she said, it was time for the every-three-months blood test to make sure his liver is standing up to the Lipitor he takes.

The nurse came in first, of course, asking why we were there. We told her, including the fact that Cliff hadn't eaten since the previous night.

Then the nurse-practitioner entered, asking, "What brings you here today?"

Duh. You told Cliff to come back in two weeks, lady. For a follow-up, and for the blood work. We mentioned that he was fasting.

Enter another nurse, and blood was taken.

Unfortunately, not all the blood vials that were needed were taken, evidently.

When we got back home, there was a message on our answering machine asking Cliff to come back, that they needed a "fasting blood test".

He was fasting when he was there!!!

I guess nobody's perfect. But in these times of high gasoline prices, I wish they'd be a little more vigilant and listen to their patients; it's over fifteen miles, one way. We should have made the appointment with Cliff's actual doctor, who has had heart issues himself and pays very good attention to what we tell him.

Yeah, so he's going back today, just to have blood taken.

We have learned lately not to tell Cliff's siblings every little symptom he has, even if they ask. They get on the telephone, diagnose him, decide he's dying, and get all worked up about things. Then he gets a phone call from his brother in Kansas, saying, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tell him what? Geesh.

In other news, looks like our heat wave is over. And there's rain in the forecast. So far all we've had is sprinkles, but at least that settles the dust a bit.

I can smell autumn in the air.