Thoughts of setting fire to my desk appeared in a lovely cloud above my head. Hovering gently, they lingered.My inner curmudgeon raged, urging me on.
“Do it!” Do it!”
So much garbage. So little time.
An efficiency expert that I once knew suggested that I burn, shred or pour molten chocolate all over the junk on my desk. In this way, I could gaze upon a cleared, if somewhat charred and smoky-smelling desk.
I mused, wondering if there was really a desk underneath it all, or just masses of paperwork, pre-authorizations, denials, PQRS reminders, HIPAA notifications, OSHA mandates, Medicare Recovery Audit Contractor information… all just piled there with no desk beneath it.
If something was important, such as a bill, it would reappear next month with a friendly reminder. And the other stuff would reappear next month, too. Good advice.
Armageddon, my superb office manager, tried to help. She had organized piles. A red poster sheet highlighted with pre-authorizations. There was a green one: Prescription refills. The blue pile cried out: Absolutely necessary studies denied by the absurdity of insurance companies that don’t give a darn about the welfare of our patients, and I will get their peer entities on the phone and waste time, but the patient will have what he/she needs.
Ah, Armageddon, you know me so well.
Further reading: Top 10 challenges facing physicians in 2017
I am Doctor Curmudgeon.
I have been practicing medicine since the Pleistocene Era. I yowl at injustice, wastefulness and the lack of concern for the health of my patients from all those Powers That Be. And I can remember the good old days when I had nothing to worry about except my patients and keeping up with what was going on in medicine. Sheer bliss. Little did I know that things would change and I would become Doctor Curmudgeon.