Truth or Consequences

There's nothing like a software upgrade to effectively ruin your day and wreck a reasonably functioning program.  It isn't quite the nightmare of the original upgrade but it beats whatever's in second place.  Essential forms have vanished and no one seems to be able to say where or why or how to restore them, new steps are in place but we have had no instruction on how to use them, things that used to take 20 keystrokes now take 30.   Typically, it takes two full days before tech support even bothers to return a call and still one more before they grasp the problems - their first three so called fixes fail miserably - and this is called progress.

Having been through this before - the initial upgrade was, not to put too fine a point on it, an absolute debacle - we have no illusions.  We get as much done beforehand as possible and steel ourselves for the worst.
We are not disappointed.  With the upgrade completed, the system reverts to creeping speed, freezing and crashing once an hour or so.  The day takes on a familiar nightmarish quality and once again I find myself thinking about staying in bed and letting someone younger and less demanding deal with all this nonsense. The doctor snaps and growls his way through the morning, almost as disgusted with the system as we are but still, despite our pleas, not willing to step in and make some waves. 

It's a curious thing to me that no one seems able to design a medical software program that actually meets the needs of a medical practice but it's even more curious how useless these designers and sellers become once their system is in place.  Our software rep, an outgoing and lovely young lady who likes to promise far more than she can deliver, courted us for weeks with lunches and training and 24 hour access.  Calls were returned promptly and solutions were found within days if not hours.  We've barely seen her since the program was installed and when we do it's clear that she considers us a high maintenance client, demanding and troublesome and hardly worth her time.  Only the doctor is able to get her attention.  Worse, she blames us for the flaws, suggesting time and time again that everything that goes awry originates with us.

In the midst of this small drama, the surgery center sends us the surgical schedule for the following day and the doctor's case isn't on it.  The nurses frown - they both know that the paperwork had been submitted exactly as required and days before - but a hasty call to the center confirms their fears.  Never got anything, the admitting nurse initially claims.  Later this is altered to We called and told you there was no free time slot.  The story has a certain flexibility, it changes depending upon who we speak to, the one constant being that they bear no responsibility for the mix up.

I don't care whose fault it is, the doctor tells us somewhat grandly, I just want it fixed so it doesn't happen again.

It's an adult attitude, a mature attitude, an admirable attitude.  Especially when you're not the one being accused.

I've worked for years to detach myself from these small resentments and the drama they breed but the nurses and I don't handle this at all well.  It feels too much like a personal attack and we are disgusted and very angry.
The doctor tries to smooth our ruffled feathers, assuring us he knows we all did our jobs despite what the surgery center claims - their history of this kind of error is long and anything but uncommon - but it's not enough.

Let it go, he tells us with a smile, It's not important.

Oh, but it is.

Someone feeling wronged is like someone feeling thirsty.
Don't tell them they aren't.  Sit with them and have a drink.
 ~ Lemony Snicket