a glimmer of hope

I’ve been battling a chalazion on my eyelid for what feels like a geological epoch. It is a tiny, stubborn, blocked oil gland that decided to set up camp on my face. For over a month it has been a standoff between me, this unwelcome red bump, and a series of hot compresses. My urgent‑care clinic gave me the usual runaround with wait times so long I could have learned a new language. That is Medi‑Cal for ya. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

My search led me to call my old optometrist, a place iron­ically named Eye Gotcha. Since I had had LASIK years ago and was not a current patient, they could not help and referred me to Valencia Optometry. In hindsight the name of my old doctor’s office should have been a warning. I called Valencia, where the person who answered the phone was lovely and assured me they could handle my pesky chalazion. “We don’t take Medi‑Cal,” they warned. “No problem,” I said, “I will pay out of pocket.” The price for my salvation was $149 – a steal, I thought, to finally rid myself of this tiny, unwelcome tenant living rent free on my face.

the bouncy ball overture

I arrived at the office, filled with a misplaced sense of optimism. The first thing I noticed was a mysterious, rhythmic “BOING… BOING… BOING” from the apartment above. The doctor, Martha Klaufman, was not amused. She complained openly about the noise, which struck me as unprofessional, but I let it slide. I was on a mission. A herd of elephants could have been tap-dancing upstairs, and I wouldn’t have cared if it meant getting this thing off my eyelid.

I dutifully filled out the mountain of paperwork and was then asked to immediately pay the $149 “co-pay.” I use quotes because the term implies a shared experience. The only thing being shared here was my money with their bank account. I paid, my heart aflutter with anticipation.

the bait and switch

Five minutes later, I was called in. Not for a chalazion consultation, mind you. That would be too logical. I was given a standard eye exam, the kind you get when you need glasses. I don’t need glasses. I have had LASIK. I explained again why I was there, mentioning I already had antibiotics and a referral to a specialist with a six-week wait. This was my attempt to circumvent that broken system.

Dr. Klaufman, mid-vision-check, explained to me what I already knew from a simple AI search: stubborn chalazions need a steroid shot. Then, in a stroke of medical genius, she decided to prescribe me another antibiotic “to kill the bugs,” despite the fact that there was no active infection. The prescription was for a weaker antibiotic than the one I already had. It was like trying to fight a dragon with a water pistol 🙄

a referral to nowhere

Then came the grand finale. She announced she couldn’t actually do anything about the chalazion. “That wasn’t the kind of thing she did there,” she said. Instead, she would give me a referral.

The assistant called the specialist’s office on speakerphone. We all listened as they confirmed they could only see me with a referral from my primary care doctor (which I had for a different place) and that the wait was, you guessed it, still six weeks. When I meekly asked about paying out of pocket to expedite, they quoted me $500. Just for the appointment.

Dr. Klaufman told the assistant to hang up and, with a straight face, instructed me to “call my primary care doctor and ask for a referral to the new place.”

where this leaves me

The entire appointment lasted fifteen minutes, from the moment I walked in to the moment I walked out. I paid $149 for fifteen minutes of my life I will never get back, a useless prescription, and a referral to a place I will never go because of the same constraints that brought me there. At a rate of nearly $600 an hour she is paid handsomely for providing absolutely no value to me or apparently anyone if you believe the other Yelp reviews.

I walked out stunned. For a fleeting moment I imagined paying someone to stand outside her office and bounce a ball on repeat, a darkly comic tribute to the absurdity that opened my visit. My actual revenge was less theatrical: I went home and wrote a Yelp review since I am, admittedly, too broke to do the former. It was then that I saw what I should have checked beforehand. The page was a graveyard of one star experiences, a chorus of voices echoing my own frustration; a useless doctor.

The lesson, of course, is brutally simple: never go to a place, no matter how in need you are, without checking the reviews first. My desperation cost me $149 or really my mom since she gave me the money.

The healthcare system I tried to bypass by paying cash is just as broken on the other side. The transaction was more theatre than medicine and I paid for the ticket. The only good thing that emerged was that once I got home I began using the antibiotic my urgent‑care clinic prescribed more aggressively. The swelling and redness have begun to recede, and the chalazion is now less noticeable.

We need healthcare that cannot waste your time by design and cannot rug you by design.

This wasn’t it.