Forms, Forms, More Forms
- Sue Leonard
- Sep 20
- 3 min read
Forms, Forms, and More Forms
Every time I get a vaccination, I have to fill out a two-page form. We’re lucky our CCRC hosts the vaccinations right on site, rotating among three popular pharmacy chains. But since we’ve been here five years and get at least two vaccinations a year, that’s about 10 vaccinations—roughly three with each provider. Same information, same company. All that paper. And someone has to file it all.
Wouldn’t it be simpler if they asked just two questions?
1. Have you filled out this form for our pharmacy before?
2. If yes, has your health changed since then?
Of course, maybe they’re worried at our age we wouldn’t remember.
Too bad they don’t use an automated system. My doctors use Phreesia, an online intake program. The first time it feels like hundreds of questions—every health condition under the sun, plus new ones about eating, sleeping, drinking, and yes, sexual activity. But at least once you’ve filled it out, you just scroll through and update what’s changed.
This time, though, Phreesia asked lifestyle questions that made me laugh. When I checked “apartment,” it popped up: What floor do you live on? I answered “third floor” but hoped they didn’t picture me sprinting up the stairs every day. More often than not, the elevator does the heavy lifting. Then came twenty more questions—mold, lead paint (how would I know?), bug infestations, high-traffic areas, throw rugs…
And oh, the falling questions. Did I fall in the last year? (No, but I did break my wrist twice back in 2018–2019.) Am I afraid of falling? (Well, of course—I’m over 70 and not a trapeze artist.) Do I have throw rugs? (Yes, in the bathroom, but I refuse to believe a bath mat is a death trap.)
Sometimes I wonder if doctors actually read all that. They’re busy people—I can’t imagine them combing through 100 multiple-choice answers to see if I sleep on my left side.
Our new dermatologist used a different service: a text link to a form.
And the worst part? No “skip” or “not applicable.” When was your last period? (Somewhere in the 1990s, thank you very much.) Are they regular? (Catch-22—I don’t have them, so how do I answer?) Blood flow, light or heavy? Really—after 30 years I’m supposed to remember?
The alcohol section is another gem: 0, 1–2 a day, 3–4 a day, 5–6 a day, over 6. What about 3–4 a week? And who admits to drinking over 6 a day? At that point, can you even fill out the form? And size matters—our “extreme” wine glasses hold 28 ounces. Half full is two to three “regular” pours. So technically, a person could answer 1 glass and be getting three times the normal pour.
Night sweats? Yes or no. No “occasionally.” So I said no.
After the usual questions came screen after screen of legalese, each requiring three separate signatures. It’s informed consent, they say. But honestly, does anyone read that stuff? Even on a big-screen computer, it’s duller than reruns of Ed Sullivan introducing his “Really Big Show.”
I filled out the form on my iPhone. Ever try signing your name on one of those? By page two, I switched to initials. My husband—smug Android user—sailed through with his stylus and enjoyed reminding me how superior his phone was.
And don’t get me started on medication lists. If my primary prescribed them, why do I have to retype them every time? At least Florida has a vaccination database, so doctors can check what shots I’ve had.
Sometimes I think these companies get paid by the question. Otherwise, why so many? Honestly, I’d rather just have a microchip with my medical info that updates automatically. They already use chips for credit cards, building passes, even transit. Why not health care? Just wave a wand over my arm and voilà—no more forms. (1)
Not that I’d go wild like Anastasia Synn, who holds the Guinness World Record with 52 electronic implants, including one that plays her wedding video when you scan her heart. Imagine if it malfunctioned and looped The Chicken Dance. Would she have to dance along? (2)
I’d settle for one chip—just for medical data—so I wouldn’t have to fill out the same forms over and over.
Until then, I’m stuck with Forms, Forms, More Forms. This week I had a record three appointments. And speaking of forms, we’re moving October 28. Just down the block, but still—time to tackle the mountain of change-of-address paperwork.
References
Katherine Latham, The microchip implants that let you pay with your hand, BBC.com, 10 April 2022
Aliciamarie Rodriguez, Woman inserts technological implants into her body to become human cyborg, guinnessworldrecords.com 08 November 2023
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