I see a problem here

Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope. Where’s the light sabre when you need it? Enquiring minds want to know. I want to do battle with the overlords of communication.

Whenever I’m in Ottawa, Toronto or in Vancouver, I usually stop into the MEC (Mountain Equipment Co-operative) to stock up on “ladies’ fine fashion”. MEC is a co-operative but, because they’ve got the communication thing figured out, I don’t have to worry about where, exactly, I’ve left my card. The service person at the check-out asks for your telephone number and, as if by magic, your information pops up on-screen. My MEC shopping history. Got me wondering about communication, this trip to Vancouver’s MEC on 4th Avenue. It is very simple to share information and I know there’s a scary side to it, but seriously, it’s simple from my perspective.

So, what’s my “insert phone number here” point? If it was so effortless for retailers, why the H E double tongue depressors is it so freaking difficult for our Ontario health care system to share the goods? Didn’t most of us sign a consent to share “the goods” years ago during our annual “turn your head and cough”. I distinctly remember hearing how simple it would be for me, the patient, to show up in a hospital, anywhere in Ontario and with the swipe of my health card, all of my health care information would pop up for those attending. At the time I wasn’t thrilled with my carbuncle treatment flying around in cyberspace, but it had to be better than the process in place. The requisitioning of copies of files and xrays, followed by the time-consuming process of shipping the files from one site to the next. A gal could develop complications waiting.

In 2009 I went to my local optometrist and after a long examination it was decided I should see a specialist. The optometrist said he’d make the arrangements by mail (snail mail, no less) and I would be hearing from Kingston General Hospital (KGH) about my appointment time. Three months later I received an envelope from Hotel Dieu/KGH letting me know my appointment with the ophthalmologist would be in May of 2009, it would take about an hour and if the date was a problem, give them a call. Didn’t seem to be a problem, but I’m not a doctor. Two days later I received another envelope letting me know I had a date to have an ocular scan which needed to be done before I sat down with the specialist. Except the date of the scan was scheduled for three weeks after the specialist’s appointment. I called. Avery nice person rescheduled everything—in the correct order—for the same day. Whew. Everything but the waiting was in order.

The outcome of the visits? Well, who the H E double vision knows. I assumed (oh, do shut up) if I didn’t hear from anyone, everything was just fine. That’s the protocol, right?

So, in November of 2010, I’m sitting with my local “eye guy” who commences the appointment with a bit of headscratching. He looks perplexed when he asks me if I have seen my report from Hotel Dieu/KGH. Oh, oh, I’m blind and I didn’t know it. He laughs and says he never received a report from Kingston and thought maybe I had. Well, no. But, I am wondering how all of that time could pass and the specialist’s report was nowhere to be seen (pardon the pun). These things happen, dontcha know.

When I get home, I call the eye clinic and inquire about my test results. It takes almost 10 minutes to be transferred to the correct person and this time a not terribly pleasant person asks me why I waited so long for the information. I hardly know how to answer the question and offer a suggestion, along with my health card number (remembering the health card number is my access code) just to be helpful. Not terribly pleasant person wonders if I know how many people go through the eye clinic in a week, a month, a year. I hazard an outrageous guess and her snort tells me she isn’t amused, then she tells me she doesn’t really have time for people with attitude. The hold button is her form of retaliation and I’m left on hold for another 20 minutes, then someone else picks up the line and the whole process has to be repeated to yet another unpleasant person. Why did I wait so long? Did I know how many people came through this clinic? She takes all of my information again and tells me someone will take care of this.

So, here it is, half-passed March and still no test results from the eye clinic. I can’t help thinking about the consent form I signed so many years ago (like my $5 MEC membership card) and wonder what the HELL happened to all of the blather about simplifying communications in our health-care system. I am, perhaps, just a bit ticked off and I may be visually impaired for all I know. MEC can tell me in 10 keystrokes what I purchased the last time I was in one of their stores, but I run around blindly trying to get my health records.Where’s my light sabre? I can’t see it.