I have never had an experience like I just had at this diagnostic laboratory. I was told to promptly arrive at 7:30a. No one got to the center until 7:45a, at which time a surly and antagonistic "neurodiagnostic techninician" named Britt (male) could barely mumble a hello.
Once taken back by "Britt", I was ordered to remove my pants and don a blue pair of paper shorts. When I asked him if he could tell me a little bit more about the procedure I was having (EMG), he stated "Just put the shorts on and lay down on the table." Okay.
Once he re-entered the room, I had to ask him his name. There was no introduction. While he was gathering what he needed, I asked him "What are your credentials?" He rattled off a couple of certifications that apparently permitted him to attach electrodes to my legs.
There was no bedside manner at all; he said absolutely nothing to me except "pulsing now." I tried to tell him that I was a bit anxious about a procedure for which I had heard was exceedingly painful. I asked him, who does the second part of the procedure? He again rattled off some doctor's name that I couldn't pronounce if you paid me.
"Britt" continued his electrode-busy work, not caring at all when I asked him to stop sending pulses through my ankles. It hurt terribly.
"Britt" completed his ritualistic assault of everything neural in my lower extremities, gathered up his crap, and left with a flippant "Take care."
Now enters a slovenly-looking, previously unidentified doctor something-or-other, shuffling his feet, and mumbling a quasi-introduction. He kept mumbling "okay, okay" to himself when I wasn't even asking any questions. When I asked him to clarify exactly WHAT he was going to do to me, he stated that he was going to insert needles deep into many muscles "from my hip to my feet" over and over again to measure the neural activity.
When I shared my fear of needles, he said "it will hurt." I had a baaadd feeling deep in my gut - and my gut is never, ever wrong. I apologized and said, "Yeah, I'm not doing this." His response was (of course), "Okay, okay... [mumble, mumble]." I sat up, took off the blue paper shorts, and hightailed it out of there. On my way out, the front desk lady (who had finally made it work ), was literally screaming at me "Ma'am! Ma'am!" I didn't look back.
This was, quite possibly, one of the worst medical experiences of my life.
My heart was pounding when I got back to my car. As I am in the field of medical malpractice, I could not help the feeling that I had just dodged a bullet. I cannot believe that with today's technology we cannot figure out a better way to measure neural activity in our bodies. Until that day comes, I'll just sit here and be numb in my feet, thank you. read more