Dear Dr. Douchenozzle:

 

Dear Dr. Douchenozzle:

 

You probably don’t remember me, but my name is Ginny. My son, B, came to see you for his first eye exam, about 2 years ago. The kid had been falling down a lot, and after checking his footwear, his hearing, and the slope of our living room floor, I thought “What the hell?” and gave you a shot.

 

You couldn’t find anything wrong. (Turns out I actually DID take the right baby home from the hospital; kid’s just got my klutzy, klutzy genes.) Seeing as how little B has perfect vision, never squints or gets headaches, and has started reading, I assumed everything was fine. But you don’t make those assumptions, do you Dr. Douchenozzle? No, you’re so concerned about my child’s optometric well-being, that you sit up at night, mentally drafting passive-aggressive letters.

 

Dear Mstr. “B”:

 

According to our records, your last examination was on September 15, 2006. During your last visit we discussed the importance of regular eye examinations, which you know are necessary for eye health.

 

Our office hours are as follows…”

 

Let’s discuss what’s wrong with your little letter, shall we?

 

The use of the formal address “Master” indicates that you’re aware you’re writing to a 5 year old. And your use of dates tells me that by using some Grade 1 math, you know my kid was 3 the last time he saw you. At that time, the two of you had an erudite and comprehensive discussion about eye health? Really? Because I remember the conversation going more like this:

 

“OK, B, please sit in this chair.”

 

“Nooooooooo!” (runs into waiting room to play with trucks)

 

“For the last time, B (after I’ve wrestled B back into the exam room, and am holding him there against his will), what letters do you see?”

 

“This office smells funny.”

 

Putting responsibility for his own optical health on a 5 year old, as a thinly disguised means of making me guilty? Dude, that’s low. And the general “Tsk-tsk!” tone? That’s douchey. Maybe even turbo-douchey (I’ll look into it).

 

I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass what your office hours are. We’ll take our government health care funding elsewhere.

 

Up Yours,

 

Ginny

 

P.S. Your office DID smell funny. Loser.

 

(Image from here.)

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17 responses to “Dear Dr. Douchenozzle:

  1. Maser B… sounds like a rapper.

    I like trucks
    This place smells funny
    I’ve got to run
    My nose is runny 😛

    Stupid doctor needs to get his eyes checked… and his head while he’s at is. 😉

  2. now I’m too frightened to pursue my life long dream of being an optometrist. I couldn’t handle the dressing down I’d get from angry yummy mummies

  3. The funny thing is that the letter was probably generated by some computer program and mailed without Dr. Douchenozzle’s knowledge. His office staff will receive a notice that the letter (or post card – that’s what we usually get) was sent and maybe they’ll make a follow-up call to schedule an appointment.

    It’s all so impersonal these days. But in the friendly confines of The Great White North? I thought you guys were more thoughtful . . .

  4. LOL. What did it smell like?

  5. Dude, who uses “Master” anymore? Well, you know, out of the bedroom. 😉

  6. aaaaaahhhhhhhahahahah.

    Nice personalized attention to your patients, Dr. D. Baggage.

    That would crack me the hell up to get a letter like that for my 5 year old kid.

  7. Maybe ‘Master B’ could send little note back to ‘Dr. Douchenozzle’ accompanied by a smelly toy truck?

  8. Peter: Master B. It sounds like a rap name, all right. It also sounds like a name for a boy who spends a lot of time alone in his room, the shower, etc.

    Nursemyra: I’d never ACTUALLY dress him down. I like to deal with passive-agression in my own passive aggressive way. Hence, I blog (and thank you for the “yummy”. You looked at my new picture in my FAQ, didn’t you?)

    Tysdaddy: Oh, I understand automated responses. This one just struck me as a wee bit finger wagging. The dentist never makes me feel like I’m going to hell. And Canadians can be really mean too. Just today, I held a door open for the guy behind me, but NOT the guy behind him. Cuz that’s how I roll.

    Maria: Oddly enough, urine. In an optometrist’s office?

    Sue: Tee hee!

    Bluestreak: I like the credit card apps for the 5 year old better. Man, he is gonna hate me when he tries to buy a car in 15 years.

    Mongoliangirl: I like the way you think! Welcome!

  9. I have really NO patience at all anymore for bad physicians. What an idiot! Reminds me of the optometrist who made “fee” visits to my son’s school. One of my son’s classmates has severe eye problems and wears glasses and uses a special machine for reading in school. The stupid optometrist guy sent the mom a letter saying her son had a severe problem and she must come in to see him, a.s.a.p. What an IDIOT. I mean, my God, didn’t he notice rh kid had to take off his huge glasses to be examined? Where did he think the kid got those glasses from in the first place. Idiot.

  10. Kids are so honest (’til we teach them not to be).
    Professionals can be a bit strange.
    Parents deal with both.

  11. That ps cracks me up the most.

  12. Word! Where did you come up with the fab ‘douchenozzle’? I swear, I started using the term a few days ago after seeing it on overheardinnewyork.com, something about a fat chick hoping waiters didn’t shave their ass crack hair into her food cause her mom was being such a douchenozzle.

    Cosmic coincidences *ooooOOooOOOOOoooOOOOOOoo*

    And yeah, what the hell is it with those offices that all smell like some weird septic ointment mixed with grandma’s basement?

  13. Writinggb: That breaks my heart! (As a kid, I LOVED it when the health nurses did eye exams. 5 whole minutes out of the classroom? Nirvana!)

    Mysterioso: Welcome! Very true…and almost haiku-like.

    Max: Thank you. I have all the charm of a 10 year old kid.

    Emerald: I’m not sure where the word came from. It just felt right. Plus, the husband and I both like to throw the D-word around, so it’s inevitable that these bastardizations pop up.

  14. Way to stick it to the man!!! And optometrists and I never get along. Long story.

  15. Billy: I, for one, would like to hear that story.

  16. In Othello, Iago says he wishes all the ladies’ fingers Cassio kissed were clyster pipes (enema tubes)! Try explaining that to 17 and 18 year olds…

  17. Christa: Oh snap, Cassio! You got SERVED! And really, is there anything you can explain to 17 and 18 year olds? Besides how to make fake IDs and lie to your parents about spending the night in a strange city with strange boys…wait, I think I’m projecting here…

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