STRANGER THAN FICTION: THE UPS AND DOWNS OF HMO CARE FROM A WOMAN'S PERSPECTIVE

If my doctor had written those prescriptions any faster, his pen would have ignited.

Last week I experienced that event women eagerly anticipate all year.

The female-oriented checkup.

Nothing could be more humiliating. OK, maybe if that dream where I show up for high school wearing nothing but undergarments and realize that I graduated 11 years ago had actually happened, THAT would be more humiliating. But only that.

My doctor was assigned to me by the HMO contracted by my company. He's not quite Doogie, but he's pretty young. He was medically trained in the HMO generation, which means he has no recollection of the days when doctors spoke to fully clothed patients about their health care choices.

Yep, Momma's told me about those days. She claims doctors had offices separate from the examining room where you could sit and talk about your options once you were diagnosed with some kind of problem. I think she's nuts, but I just smile and nod to placate her.

So here was my appointment:

8:30 a.m. -- Check in, get weighed by nurse (AAARRRGGGHHH!). Blood pressure normal. I tell her that I also need to ask the doctor about a sinus infection I'm having and about a certain pregnancy-preventing medication I've been on for awhile.

8:32 a.m. -- Slip into one of those open-front robes. At my present size, I can barely tie one, but manage to get it on and get situated on the examining table while losing only a minimal amount of dignity.

8:35 a.m. -- "Dr. Jones" comes in, glances at my chart and begins the examination. He asks me if I'm having any heartburn trouble while probing a delicate area nowhere near my heart. I say occasionally but it's no big deal. He says he'll write me a prescription. This makes me think he's getting some kind of heartburn medication company kickback.

8:38 a.m. -- All done! Dr. Jones leaves, I get dressed, he returns to give me the heartburn prescription and starts to leave. "Uh, what about my sinus infection?" I ask. He listens to my lungs and scribbles off a prescription for an antibiotic, cough syrup and decongestant. He takes my arm in what would appear to be a comforting fashion, but I'm actually being escorted from the examining room.

8:42 a.m. -- I'm in the hallway but determined to get my final question in. With an 80-year-old woman on my left and a teen aged boy on my right, I ask, "Do you think it's healthy to be on the Pill constantly for so many years?" He says it's fine. I consider hiding under a waiting room chair until my embarrassment passes.

There's an upside to this: I can get my medical problems and anyone else's cared for in one visit. If I walked into Dr. Jones' office and asked for Viagra, I'd have a prescription scribbled out in 10 seconds flat.

And now for the weekly Idjit Award.

I interviewed a man-on-the-street for a story about how his city would have to either raise utility rates or cut services because of a budget crunch. Which would he prefer?

"Well, either way, I'd have to say I'm a devil's advocate," he replied.

Huh?

~Heidi Nieland is a former Southeast Missourian staff writer who lives in Pensacola, Fla.