Turning Outrage Into An Opportunity

In the past couple of weeks I've been trying to schedule my annual doctor's appointments. I say "annual" but really it has been several years for all of these doctors. And I've never seen a doctor in California, so I'm relying on my handy insurance packet to tell me who to call. Invariably, the conversations have gone like this:

Me: "Do you accept new patients?"
Secretary: "Yes!"
Me: "I'd like to make an appointment for a general exam."
Secretary: "Great! I'd be happy to help you with that. When is the best time for you?"
Me: "I work from home, so I'm very flexible."
Secretary: "Who is your insurance provider?"
Me, telling her the name of my provider.
Secretary: "Oh."

Yep. "Oh."
Followed by "we are actually all booked" or "we don't accept THAT insurance" or "I can put you on the wait list for August." Mind you, all of these offices are listed in my packet as doctors who take my insurance.

Initially I was humored by this.

Then I was irritated that I was wasting so much time on the phone, simply for people to tell me that I couldn't make an appointment after all.

Next I was humiliated. Did they think that I was dirty or lazy or on drugs, just because of my insurance provider?

And finally I was outraged.

I was outraged at them. So what if I was dirty or lazy or on drugs? Is that reason to treat me with any less dignity than anyone else?

And I was outraged at myself, for thinking that if these doctors could see me, they would see that I'm not like "those other people" who can't afford a better insurance provider.

Or maybe that's not true at all. Maybe they would see me and think, "Here's another person spending $100 to bleach her hair but can't afford to pay our office visits."

This isn't the only scenario that causes me outrage.

I'm outraged when I walk into the bank and they offer to teach me how to use the ATM, as if my wanting a teller to deposit my check is a royal waste of her time.

And I'm outraged that I respond to her offer with an unfriendly face.

I'm outraged when Randy caters a wedding and the mother of the bride treats him like he's "the help," when he's spent months with her daughter making sure that everything is exactly how she wants it for her special day.

And I'm outraged when my gut reaction is to tell Randy to put her in her place.

I'm outraged when our landlord would rather us inhale toxic fumes than spend a dime fixing her septic system.

And I'm outraged at how much time I waste angry at her.

I'm outraged at the recent events in Orlando, when someone so filled with hate walked into a place filled with joy and laughter and freedom and destroyed those precious things.

And I'm outraged at all the opportunities I've had to stand up for what is right, to be a voice for the voiceless, and I have let those opportunities slip right through my fingers.

Discrimination is defined as "the unjust treatment of different categories of people." By definition, discrimination is unjust. It is never okay. Whether "they" are doing it or whether it is you and me.

We need to be more intentional about treating all persons with the dignity that they deserve. But it doesn't start by pointing at everyone else. It doesn't start by saying that the secretaries are the problem or the doctors, mothers-in-law or landlords, the "affluenza" teen or the terrorist. It starts by looking in the mirror, by looking at how I treat others, by uncovering my hidden prejudices.

So for that reason, I'm glad that the eye doctor will see me only once before dropping my insurance provider next month; I'm glad that my primary care physician won't answer the phone so that I can schedule an appointment; I'm glad that I'm on the wait list for the Women's Health Clinic, hoping to be seen in August. Not because those inconveniences uncovered a problem in our health care system, but because they uncovered something in me that I have the power to change.