Sorry, Wrong Number

Barbara Stanwyck in the 1948 film, "Sorry, Wrong Number"

This afternoon, while I was in the shower, I missed a call from our leading local medical conglomerate named, ironically, MaineHealth. It is described this way online: "MaineHealth is a not-for-profit family of high-quality providers and health care organizations committed to the health and well-being of the communities and people we serve."  Translation: Call us when you're sick. 

Anyway, as I said I missed the call but they left a message which threw me into a tizzy. It was from a nurse named Katrina at Portland Nephrology, saying I should call her back as soon as possible, along with a phone number. I had to Google "nephrology" and naturally freaked out thinking oh great, now I have kidney disease. Frantically scouring my brain for who might be a willing donor, I called back and of course reached nothing like a human, just a series of recordings saying how very important I am to everyone at Portland Nephrology.

I called four times, each time pressing another number and each time leaving a message along the lines of, "Am I dying? Do I need a transplant? What's wrong with me? Please call me back." All to no avail.

Finally I crossed that line in the sand and pressed the number for "If you are a physician trying to reach another physician." Annoyingly, yet thankfully, someone picked up right away. I explained my dilemma and a nice young man named Jason found my chart and said, "Nope, nothing here about you regarding nephrology. In fact, according to this chart you did not receive a call from us today."

"Oh, but I did, Jason." To prove it, I played him the phone message left by Katrina at Portland Nephrology on my landline. (Fortunately I had called him on my cell phone.)

"Hmmmm, that's odd. We are supposed to document every phone call and make notes, and there is nothing written here about a call to you from the nephrology team today. Would you like me to put Katrina on the line?"

"Please, no. Just tell her for me that she should be fired." And with that I hung up, angry at the error but also glad I hadn't had the wrong leg amputated, which happens.   At least for today I am fine kidney-wise, unlike whoever Katrina thought she was calling.
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