Outpatient Diagnostic Center

Amazing staff. Very thoughtful and caring. Was in and out quickly! Would recommend for sure!

I’ve got issues. They range from minor (a tendency to rearrange the order of ingredients on my sandwich) to major (a couple of seriously damaged shoulders that render me unable to do simple things like open a heavy door or wash my own hair). As a result of the major issues, I’ve been subjected to a number of imaging procedures.
My current physician is in Nashville (long story, don’t ask). He sent me to Outpatient Diagnostic Center to get a couple of MRIs done before surgery. The scheduling and pre-​authorization team was superb. Megan called me up, got all of my information, coordinated with the insurance folks, and scheduled my appointment with friendly efficiency.
I arrived for that appointment about an hour early. We figured that we’d need a little extra time to fill out paperwork (my right hand is all jacked up so I write like a lazy first grader and it is painful). I got Sexy Beast involved and we managed to answer all of the questions (twice or more) on the forms. We waited.
When I was finally deemed worthy of the special brand of torture that is being positioned uncomfortably on a cold metal slab and shoved into a coffin, a chipper woman greeted me and explained what would happen next. She was very polite and attentive and made the whole process sound almost pleasant.
She got me all situated, popped headphones on my ears (as if the soothing sounds of Enya could really drown out the deafening, angry thumping of the jackhammer trapped in the tube with me), and scuttled out to the command center. A few soothing instructions and the banging commenced. About three minutes in, she came rushing back into the room.
Slightly Flustered MRI Tech: Are you wearing a bra or anything with metal clasps?
Me: Nope.
Slightly Flustered MRI Tech: Do you have any metal pins or anything in that shoulder?
Me: Nope.
Slightly Flustered MRI Tech: You’re sure?
Me: Yep.
Slightly Flustered MRI Tech: Have you ever been in a car accident where you might have gotten some shrapnel or anything in that shoulder?
Me: No… (and I’m a little concerned about why you are asking…)
Slightly Flustered MRI Tech: Have you ever been shot? In that shoulder?
Me: No.
Slightly Flustered MRI Tech: Are you sure?
Me: I think I’d remember that. And, now, you have to tell me why you are asking.
Slightly Flustered MRI Tech: Well, it looks like there are bits of metal in that shoulder, like buckshot or something.
Me: Hmm. That’s disturbing.
So, for the next thirty or forty minutes, I laid there wondering if tiny pellets would suddenly burst from my shoulder and ricochet off the Metal Death Tube and shoot me in the eye and pondering whether I look like the sort of person who might get shot.
Anyhoo.
After that whole endeavor, I was told to hang out in the waiting room while a copy of the images was made to take with me to the doctor. I’m a compliant patient, so I sat there for thirty minutes before politely inquiring about the copies. I was told that they were in the works. I waited another thirty minutes. I asked again. Much huffing and harrumphing accompanied the frantic shuffling of papers and pointed calls to the mysterious elves in the back office somewhere.
Annoyed Receptionist: The disc was sent to your doctor’s office by courier.
Me: I just sat here for an hour waiting for the disc. I was told by my doctor and by your staff that the disc would be in my possession when I leave here.
Annoyed Receptionist: The disc was sent…
Me: (Interrupting because I just can’t take the reciting of a script that is supposed to get me to shut up and go away.) I need a copy of the MRIs. I need it within the next five minutes.
Annoyed Receptionist: I’ll have them (you know «them», those mysterious elves) make another copy.
Me: Thanks. I’ll wait right here. (I flashed her my creepiest, murderous smile.)
Ten minutes later, the disc appears. It contains the images of my left shoulder. It does not contain the images of my right shoulder (that’s the one that prompted the buck shot conversation).
Me: This isn’t all of the images. I need them for both shoulders.
Annoyed Receptionist: Did we do an MRI of both?
Me: Yes. (Grinding my teeth.) Can you please ask «them» to get me a copy of the right shoulder also?
Annoyed Receptionist: That’s both shoulders.
Me: The label says that it’s only the left. Is that wrong?
She takes the disc back, pops it in a drive, and tells me that it will be a few more minutes to get the rest of the images. I wait. Angrily.
Ten minutes later, I have a disc with (hopefully) all of the images and am headed to an appointment with the surgeon. I was only ten minutes late for that.