I've Got an Ax to Grind

At the cost of sounding like an overeducated brat , I need some help with something.  Before I get into my usual scathing diatribe, I would like to preface my remarks by saying that I am not overly impressed with myself or my abilities.  However, I did go to law school.  I must say, I remember those years fondly. I always did love being called on by my professor when I was unprepared.   Then, of course, there was the string of bad dates I had.   Believe me when I say this, women who actually have real jobs aren't impressed with the smugness of a second year law student.   I also loved the long arduous hours spent pouring over arcane cases that might as well have been hieroglyphics .  Yes, I loved my years of law school.Not !!!!!!!  After much suffering, I received my degree and passed the bar.  Thanks to a little luck and a lot of persistence, I can actually call myself a lawyer. Being a lawyer in DC is akin to being an aspiring actor in Hollywood.  You walk outside your house and throw a rock and you're bound to hit one.

About three years ago, I made a doctor's appointment at a specialist's office.  I had never been to this doctor before, so I assumed it was the usual rigamarole.  I would sit in the waiting room for an hour and then wait in a remote office for an hour while the delicate genius decided to finally grace me with his presence.  What happened next was a bit of a surprise. There was knock on the door and two seconds later a young Doogie Howser appeared, complete with white lab coat and stethoscope. Needless to say, I was taken aback.

"Where 's the doctor?" I asked. 

 Believe me when I say it took everything I had to keep myself from saying to the young lad,

"Where's the doctor sonny?"

"I am the doctor," he said confidently. "I'm the physicians assistant."

"Physician's assistant I thought. That's like a legal assistant with a lab coat. I'm sure it's a noble profession but it is not a doctor.

Fast forward three years later and "yours truly" needs another physical.  I call the doctor's office, which happens to be a pulmonary specialist, and was told I would be seeing a Dr. Jensen. Translation, your copay will be dollars higher because it is a specialist.  The delicate genius strikes again. So anyway, I get past the harridan at the front desk and find myself in a remote office.  Who shows up? That's right, you got it, Dr. Jensen again. In other words, I was going to be examined by Doogie Howser again.  Except this time, he had facial hair and looked older. 

How stupid am I and how smart is the doctor's office ? Not only do I not get to see a real doctor, but I get to pay an extra ten dollars for my trouble.

Look, I will be honest with you.,  Doogie did a competent job.  It's just that I feel a little duped.  I was told on the phone that I would be seeing Doctor Jensen. Isn't it Mr. Jensen?  Seriously, where does it end? The nurses, assistants and phlebotomists start calling this guy doctor and he will start believing it.   Heck, you start calling me champ and I might believe that I can kick Mike Tyson's butt.   Oops, sorry Mike.  Retired or not, you got it bro.  I really like being able to use my real teeth to eat a meal.

Technically, you could call me doctor too.  After all, I have Doctorate of Jurisprudence. I'm sure all the PhDs and MDs out there would have something to say about me calling myself a doctor.

Health care costs or not, next time I ask to see a doctor give me one who actually completed medical school. I understand that physicians assistants may be highly trained.  I just want to see the genuine article and not some impostor in a lab coat.