We’ve all been there: the clipboard with the attached pen at the doctor’s office, featuring ambiguous forms that we constantly refill. It’s redundant, and we know they already have our information in the system, including our insurance details. They ask for liability purposes and use a broad form to reduce paperwork. I understand that excuse.
However, today, for the second time, I encountered a form at a doctor’s office that required my signature for something to happen. As I read through the forms and user agreements, I wasn’t talking about records release or treatment specifics. I was referring to other things. For example, when I was getting my eye exam, they gave me a worksheet in the lobby to fill out. When I met the person scheduling my eye surgery, I told her I wouldn’t sign two parts because they had nothing to do with me. Another section was ambiguous; it stated that I knew my eyes couldn’t be corrected. I pointed out that I didn’t know that yet and wasn’t going to admit my eyes couldn’t be corrected, potentially leading to a Lasik purchase. She didn’t like my observation, and I became nervous, as I always do. My wife had to finish the discussion with her.
Today, something similar happened. I switched to a new primary care physician. I was accustomed to my previous doctor of many years who knew me and my medical history due to my numerous health problems. Now, a new doctor, an osteopath from Western Virginia, began going through everything as if it were my first visit to Sentara. I started getting nervous because I’m an anxious person, as those who know me understand. I told him, “You’re different.” He asked why. I replied, “I think it’s because you’re using a laptop when the terminal is right in front of you. You actually push the keyboard—that’s different.” He responded, “I don’t like those clunky things.” This doctor was a bit gruff, and we weren’t used to each other.
Then, he reviewed my medication list and said, “Oh, this medication is a controlled substance.” I replied, “No, it’s not.” He insisted, “Oh, yes, it is.” I thought, “Oh my God, here I am arguing with a doctor.” I looked it up and said, “Look, as of October 2025, it’s no longer considered a controlled substance.” He countered, “In Virginia, it is, so you have to fill out the form and the release, acknowledging that you won’t take any illegal drugs or abuse alcohol or other substances while on this medication.” I thought, “Really? I don’t remember having to do that before.” I told him, “My other doctor didn’t make me sign this form or anything.” He said, “Well, they were wrong.” I thought, “Okay, I’ll fill out the form, no big deal.” I don’t use drugs, and I don’t drink. I haven’t used illegal drugs in about 40 years and haven’t had a drink in over 30 years. So, I wondered, “What’s the big deal?”
He gave me the form, and I started getting nervous because it contained questions that required my initials, acknowledging what I would not do, as if I were a Boy Scout. I would not do these things; I understood not to do them and the consequences. As I went through the form, there was a lot I didn’t want to sign. I should have drawn a line through the parts I disagreed with, initialed it, and then signed the form. That way, it would be in their court. I would have signed, but it would have indicated my disagreement with certain parts, leaving it up to them. If he signed it, that would show his agreement with my strike-throughs. It’s crazy.
In summary, I truly dislike redundant hospital paperwork. I hate paperwork that, disguised as promoting good health, is actually a liability form, disclosure, or disclaimer designed to ward off litigation. Ambiguity in forms is a legal way for them to present generalities that they can manipulate in the event of a lawsuit. It’s like, “Well, it says here that you promised you would never do drugs.” I think, “Nobody can promise that.” So, I mentally throw up my hands and think, “I can’t believe this.”
I see more and more people covering themselves everywhere. I feel I shouldn’t have to take a urinalysis test every 90 days just to get one or two medications. I feel I shouldn’t have to yield to all these demands to take a medicine that is only considered a controlled substance in three states, and Virginia is one of them. I don’t know; I just feel they don’t have the right to do that. When I question things, I get nervous and anxious. I think the person believes I’m guilty or trying to avoid something when I’m just genuinely nervous about the situation. I feel my patient rights and privileges are being distorted.
So, there you have it. We all go through it. What will we do about it? I don’t know. From now on, I will draw a line through ambiguous sentences, initial the line, and then sign and return the form. If they have a problem with that, I will say, “I expect a revision.” That’s all I can do, I guess.
Alright, folks, that’s it for the blog today. Thanks for letting me vent about the medical system. I’m not just saying it’s one doctor’s office; I know it’s everywhere. It’s everywhere. Bye. Signing off for today. Y’all be safe, love one another, and we’ll talk to you later.
Love, Mark.