The receptionist at the desk handed me the usual clipboard and said, “Fill out everything on the form to the best of your ability. Make sure you fill out both sides and then bring it back to the desk.”

Sure. Absolutely. I can do this in my sleep at this point. Every time I see a new doctor, this is the procedure. And because seniorhood is the “Patch this, patch that” stage of life, there is often another new doc on the horizon to fix your broken whatsit or your strained thingamabob.

The first thing that annoyed me was the receptionist’s admonishment to “fill out the form to the best of my ability.” I have white hair. I am only here at this new doctor’s office because I am an oldster, with an oldster’s kind of problem. But is that why she said that? Is it because she knows the form is complicated, filled with tiny print, and allows no space whatsoever for my answers? Sort of a sympathy comment? Or, does she just assume that all older folks can’t possibly gather the brain power needed to complete the form? I can’t tell if she is being kind because she knows the form is a hassle, or if she is barely tolerant of us golden oldies.The form asks for your name, address, date of birth, social security number, insurance numbers, and the blood type of your first-born child. Fine.

And then they want all the medications you take, along with the dosage, in milligrams. I don’t speak fluent milligram, milliliter, or even millisecond for that matter. And they want all this on three little lines. The frustration begins.

The next demand: “List all surgeries, including the year” and again, three little lines. Oh sure, I remember all those dates like they were yesterday. Some of them were over 50 years ago! Did she look at me when I walked up to her desk? She already knows my birthdate. Three little lines? She thinks I have had one tonsillectomy and take a Centrum Silver and two aspirins a day? Fuggedaboudit.

Each office sports a different ridiculous form. Every new patient ATTEMPTS to fill it out. But many of us take more than a dozen medications and have had more than a dozen surgeries. I eventually got seriously annoyed.

I do not understand why this form cannot be recreated as an industry standard – something that all insurance providers could buy into. I know, I know, there’s no possibility that a form so many of us are faced with so often could ever be universal. That would be too sensible. But my thinking is, the IRS has a universal form, Social Security does, and even hundreds of colleges use the Common Application. So why can’t the insurance industry do the same and make it easy on millions of us, including the medical office staffs?

At one of those fancy, four-day weekend “educational” conferences they attend, couldn’t a few insurance representatives and executives get together over Mai Tais and come up with a simple form that all of them – and us – could use? Aetna, Highmark, AARP, Omaha … all of you – help us, and help yourselves at the same time.

Then, instead of us all trying to translate our long medical history onto this collection of teeny, tiny lines, we could simply have the completed, current form sent from our physician’s office to the new doc’s office. Nah, that would be too simple.

I decided I was fed up with their tiny forms asking for my fully annotated medical biography. So, I did something about it. Now, I just fill out the history section of who in my family had bad hearts, whose liver went belly-up, and who was crazy. After that, I smugly write on the form “See attached.”

The “Attached” is my thorough, homegrown information sheet that tells the doctors everything they need to know except the date of my last pedicure. I created it on my computer and it lives there, available 24/7. Name, address, phone number, and date of birth head across the top. Clear and complete, it lists my prescription medications and dosages – a laundry list that includes inhalants and injections. That info is followed by over-the-counter meds, eye drops, and testing frequencies. The last section on the full page is my properly dated surgical procedures list.

I update the list every time there is a change, and redate it when I print it off. The receptionists love me, the nurses even more. And there are no questions – it’s all there. No more wondering if I remembered everything, no more struggling with dates and foggy dosages. No more confusing my last procedure with that last pedicure.

Nowadays, when I make a new doc appointment, I am equipped and ready. Take note, AARP and Mutual of Omaha: Have clear, complete medical resume – will travel. Easy peasy.

Marcy O’Brien can be contacted at moby.32@hotmail.com