An Obnoxious Ophthalmologist
One afternoon last fall, I was sitting in Dr. Andrew Schwartz's Upper East Side office waiting for my eyes to dilate. It was the last part of my cataract evaluation. Suddenly, a scantily dressed trans woman burst through the door. She introduced herself and loudly proclaimed to the receptionist, "I have the best legs on the planet."
I was fascinated! A staff member immediately whisked her away from public view. I followed them to the small room where they sell eyeglasses. She repeated the thing about her legs and I commented that it was supposed to be boring in a doctor's waiting room. Her comeback was, "Well, it's not boring anymore!" I laughed.
A few minutes later, (were my eyes even dilated yet?) I was escorted to Dr. Schwartz's examining room. He looked furious. His face was flushed, his eyes, glazed over and he immediately began scolding me! "I wish HE (Dr. Schwartz insisted on emphasizing the wrong pronoun) wouldn't come here," he seethed through tight lips. I mumbled my correction. "She." The doctor continued his rant. "HE upsets people. And YOU! YOU encouraged HIM!" He nodded his head towards his examining chair and ordered me to sit down.
I paused to take in what was happening. I was 81, and not accustomed to being treated poorly. Dr. Schwartz had always seemed so charming. Everyone gave him five-star reviews. I never suspected there was a powder keg hidden beneath the surface, ready to explode.
"No way!" I began. My voice got louder as I continued. "An ophthalmologist who's angry at me is not going to stick needles in my eyes!" He shrugged and said, "Suit yourself." I left.
It's a big city. There are many fine doctors. Thankfully, Medicare still exists. No one should have to subject themself to an obnoxious ophthalmologist. read more