Mr. Smith

I went to the doctor for what I hope is the final time and got released to go back to work on Monday. He did not want me to work full days, but I promised him I would be careful about overdoing things.

My comments today have to do with HIPAA, which is an acronym for the congressional act passed in 1996 guaranteeing privacy of medical information for individuals. Since I've spent a lot of time in the doctor's office the last 10 days, I've had opportunity to observe waiting rooms and check-in procedures, and I gotta tell you, from my vantage point, there isn't a lot of privacy and protection of medical information at my doctor's office. There are several physicians who practice at this well-known clinic here in Wichita, and I became acutely aware that privacy, at least during check in is practically non-existent.

From the chair in the waiting room, I was able to hear patient's names, insurance information, birthdays, addresses, and employment information. I was able to listen in quite easily concerning not only which doctor people were checking in with, but why. Would I desire to do so, I could write this information on this blog. Had I made notes during my 3 office visits I could tell you who was there for shingles, who needed to make an appointment for a mamogram, who wanted to see a doctor for a stubborn infection, for a rash, for lab work, for chest congestion, and for blood pressure checks. I could tell you who had no insurance, and who was instructed to come back to the desk to pay on their way out. I know who a few of the new patients are visiting that clinic for the first time. I heard a physician counsel an elderly woman regarding whether or not it was ethical for her to slip her husband depression medication in with the pills he takes on a daily basis, explaining that he doesn't know what he takes and it certainly might improve his mood.

The girls, and I use that term purposefully, behind the glass checking in people are young. They do not speak so that hard of hearing people can understand them, so they raise their voices. "Mr. Smith, you have Medicare? And also Blue Cross?" Mr. Smith yells back, "YES. I need to make an appointment for next week." "Why do you need to see the doctor?" queries the what looks like a 16 year old receptionist. "Because I have an INFECTION," shouts Mr. Smith. The girl confirms his address, his date of birth, and his doctor of choice. She makes the appointment, and all the while, people sitting in the waiting room now know all about Mr. Smith. What is wrong with this picture?

When I checked in, I refused to state why I was there, and just said I had an appointment at 10:30. I made all my follow up appointments by phone instead of at the reception desk. When the receptionist raised her voice to confirm my insurance carrier, birthdate and address, I tried to barely nod without speaking.

It bothered me to such an extent that I feel like writing a polite but concerned letter to the clinic. Surely there's another way to handle this-surely there's a way to treat people with dignity and respect at the doctor's office without informing 30 or 40 strangers why you are there. Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? You tell me.