In the good old days, checking in for a doctor’s appointment was remarkably uncomplicated. You walked into the office, approached the front desk, and announced your arrival like a normal human being. The receptionist acknowledged your existence, smiled politely if you were lucky, and either clicked on your name in the computer or—WAY BACK IN THE PREHISTORIC ERA—placed an actual check mark by your name in a paper appointment book using a real pen. The entire process took four seconds.

Now, in the name of streamlining and making things easier, patients are encouraged to complete a process called “pre-check-in” several days before their appointment. Apparently, modern medicine has determined that saying, “Hi, I’m here for my appointment,” is too exhausting for everyone involved.

Instead, you receive a text message with a suspiciously cheerful link inviting you to “save time at your visit.” This statement only applies if your definition of saving time means spending fifteen aggravating minutes answering questions you have already answered at every single appointment for the past twenty years.

To my dismay, I have noticed that several of my doctors’ offices are using the same pre-check-in app, which I absolutely hate. It starts off easy enough with entering your birth date. Your address. Then it asks if you are the patient. No, I just enjoy filling out medical paperwork for purely recreational purposes.

Next come the repetitive questions. Marital status, pharmacy preference, insurance, current medications, allergies, favorite pizza toppings, name of your third-grade teacher, and if you’d be interested in donating a kidney. Okay, maybe not the last few, but honestly, after twenty questions (EVERY SINGLE TIME), I’m too mentally defeated to know for sure.

Then, when you think you’ve finally reached the end, the app suddenly launches you into an endless loop of advertisements and surveys disguised as “health resources.”

Yesterday, as I was trying to pre-check in for an appointment next week, I was suddenly redirected to a page asking, “What birth control is right for you?”

Uh, does “old age” count?

Unfortunately, that was only the first in a long line of other questions about whether I was aware of exciting new diabetes treatment options, hearing aids, knee braces, mobility scooters, digestive supplements, sleep studies, and dandruff solutions. None of these things applies to me, although after twenty minutes trapped in the app, I was beginning to think I might actually need blood pressure medication.

And nowhere—NOWHERE—could I find a button that simply said, “Skip this nonsense and let me just check in for Pete’s sake!”

Every screen offered only two options: “Learn More” or “Continue.” There was no “I am not interested in discussing bladder leakage at this time.”

After several minutes stuck in a loop, I finally closed the app without ever knowing whether I’d actually completed the pre-check-in process. I may have to go to my appointment and say, “Hi, I’m here.”

What a revolutionary concept!