Dr. Jones and I sat across from each other, drinking the piping hot coffee, him smiling politely and me silently annoyed. He didn't speak for close to a minute, almost as if he had forgotten why we were there.
"So have you enjoyed your time working here?" he finally asked slowly, the caffeine seemingly the cause of an ironic peacefulness.
"Oh yes, very much."
"That's good."
"Yes."
"Yes it is." After a long pause he said, coming out of his social trance, "So. Let's play 'What Should Dr. Dobrenski do During a Crisis at __________ Hospital."
"That sounds just wonderful."
"Bear with me," he said as he started flipping through files in a drawer. "It's been a little while since I've done this part." Taking out a manila folder clearly marked "DERMATOLOGY" in giant letters on the front he immediately asked "Question 1: What is your policy on notifying patients of Malignant Melanoma?"
"Psychology."
"What?"
"I'm a Psychologist, not a Dermatologist."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Oh yes I'm quite certain." Seeing this man as a symbol of pointless red tape, incompetent authority and inane hospital procedures I briefly considered scalding him with my coffee.
"Then you need to meet with Dr. Alexander. She handles all behavioral health issues."
I must have been Adolph Hitler in my previous life because no one deserves to endure not one but two episodes of bureaucratic water torture.
"Dr. Jones, I really have done more than my fair share to make this work," I said. I then recounted for him the series of events leading up to this moment. "Can you work with me just a bit on this?"
Seeing what he probably saw as sadness and pleading in my eyes I think he felt sorry for me. Little did he know that he was witnessing homicidal rage that I had been sublimated to gain his sympathy.
"Okay, I'll see what I can do. Just get me your two letters of recommendation and you should be fine."
Please kill me.
"Letters?"
"Yes we need to letters from colleagues who are familiar with you in a professional capacity. People who have seen your work firsthand."
"But my work is behind closed doors so no colleagues see me. It's not as if I'm a surgeon that is part of a team."
"Hmmm," he said, scratching his head, me secretly hoping he would actually find a soft spot on his skull and poke his finger through it. "Then let's do this: get a short paragraph from two colleagues saying that you are a well-qualified professional and we'll call it a day."
He was lucky I'm a gentle man or else he would have been dead twice over. "Thank you, I do appreciate that."
"Just make sure that the paragraphs state that you are both a good Psychologist and a good person," he warned. "The Credentialing Committee has rejected applicants whose letters are suspect in any way."
Having come this far I decided to give this last part some serious thought. Who would craft the best missives? Dr. Gail was my first choice given her ridiculously formal approach to life and the fact that I know she approves of my work despite my generally grouchy demeanor at her office suite. But who for the second letter? Dr. Steve would have probably billed me for his time. Dr. Pete was still angry at me for our little rendez-vous with his client on the street many, many months ago. That left MILF-loving Dr. John as the colleague of choice.
John has a special sense of humor. By special I mean that he loves to watch others suffer. I warned him that this letter, while brief, had to be good so that I could put the credentialing process behind me and go back to the hospital. Of course he said "No problem!" the same way he said those exact words to other requests:
- Please don't sleep with Dr. Pete's girlfriend, I think he's in love with her.
- Do not call my office pretending to be a client and scream that you are suicidal or homicidal.
- Do not sit in my waiting room with my clients and have an argument with your "invisible friend."
Knowing that there would likely be some sick twist of humor involved with the letter I insisted he show it to me upon completion. If acceptable, I would personally mail it out so that he couldn't alter it later.
Of course John waited until the last possible moment to give me the letter just to make me anxious. To his credit however the letter itself was quite good:
Dear Members of the Credentialing Committee:It is without reservation that I recommend Dr. Robert Dobrenski to become a member of your hospital's outstanding professional community. I have had the pleasure of knowing Dr. Dobrenski for many years in both a professional and personal capacity. Not only is he an outstanding clinician with impeccable academic credentials but also a caring and giving person who is quite active in the community. I can say with confidence that he will prove to be an asset to your already accomplished facility.
Please do not hesitate to contact me should you have any questions.
Sincerely,
John _________, Ph.D.P.S. Please do not discriminate against Dr. Dobrenski's extremely small genitalia when considering his candidacy.
This last line was unacceptable (nor true for that matter). Of course he refused to take it out, leaving me scrambling to find a bottle of White-Out or Liquid Paper. John must have found some Super Bold Function on Microsoft Word because the letters, while small, were almost carved into the paper, indelibly leaving their heinous (and incorrect) remark about my manhood. After watching me huddle over my desk with a tiny brush attempting in vain to eradicate the egregious comment he took pity on me and gave me another copy, identical to the first save for the last line.
I submitted the letters and waited. And waited. Two more months went by without word. I then got a call from the woman in the Credentialing Office who apologized for the committee's decision to "bump my application" until the next meeting due to "more important matters" (probably like how to make applicants wait even longer than they already do). Weeks later I finally got a message on my voicemail stating I was a "near unanimous" decision, that I could return to work. "Please try to be a bit more affable to your colleagues in the future," the woman from Credentialing admonished, "you probably perceive yourself as very dry and witty but a few of the committee members didn't appreciate your demeanor, myself included."
So I'm back at the hospital, fully credentialed, armed with new knowledge about infectious diseases and how not to spread them, along with a polite but firm criticism about my interpersonal skills. As an added bonus I learned more about Malignant Melanoma online. And to think this whole process only took seven months. Given enough time who knows what __________ Hospital is capable of accomplishing. I wouldn't advise asking the administration to acquire a grant to cure cancer but I'm sure they could manage to order a new vending machine for the waiting room if you give them ten years. Maybe more.
Posted by Rob Dobrenski at 8:00 AM