Is an effing chest X-ray so unreasonable to want?

Turns out it is, at least if you're my doctor's nurse. :P

I woke up this morning, and not only did I not feel better, but it was hard to breathe. I advised work of same, and got on the horn to my regular doctor, getting his nurse. Nurse Ratchet, as it turned out.

First I couldn't convince Nurse Ratchet that I was, in fact, a patient of Dr. Good's. Finally accomplished that. So then she says that the soonest they could get me in is tomorrow afternoon. I expressed concern that something might need to be done sooner, being as I thought it was probably pneumonia. (It turned out to be viral bronchitis, but there was no way to know that without a chest X-ray at that point!) So Nurse Ratchet says snottily, "I really don't think it's going to go down hill that quickly." I decided at that point that there was no use dealing with her, agreed to the appointment, and hung up.

I got off the phone, and had a crying jag, not knowing what to do. Mom and Dad weren't home. So I called Mother Samoa, who advised to go to the emergency room at once. Mr. Samoa came home, and we toddled off and did so.

We got there, and the triage nurse listened to my breathing or lack thereof, shrieked in horror, and rushed me back to a room. One albuterol treatment and a set of chest X-rays later, it was determined that I had bronchitis. I am headed to the doctor tomorrow as planned, but he's going to hear about Nurse Ratchet. :P