The Kafka-esque nightmare of the Bushwick hospital

The combination of being relatively new to New York and relatively new to Adulthood has made me absolutely inept at going to the doctor. Every time I've tried to go anywhere in this city for any health-related reasons, it has gone cartoonishly awry. Here's a few examples:

1. Tried to go to Dentist, went to dentist in Chinatown where no one spoke English
2. Tried to go to Gyno, went to gyno who told me that I will get pregnant if I use condoms
   
3. Tried to go to ENT for sinus infection, was given steroids without any examination of sinuses

So, a few days ago, when I woke up with an incredibly sore throat decorated with gnarly white spots, I knew that nothing about getting better was going to be easy. I was in so much pain I decided to stagger to my local hospital in Bushwick, despite multiple online reviews describing said hospital as the "worst hospital ever".
The waiting room did not have nearly enough chairs, so after about 4 hours of waiting on the floor and watching Judge Mathis (which I was fine with) I finally got to see the doctor, who shall hereforth be known as Dr. Meanest Doctor Ever, or Dr. M for short. Here's how the conversation went:

ME: I have a really sore throat with white spots. I think it's strep.
DR: Have you been having a lot of oral sex?
ME: stunned silence. I've never heard of an STD that gives you strep throat. And I have a monogomous boyfriend who has never given me strep throat before. Please, help me.
DR: Do you have a fever?
ME: I don't know, I don't own a thermometer, but I'm sweating a lot and I'm very cold.
DR: Oh Molly, if you had a fever, you would know.

The doctor then proceded to NOT take my temperature and NOT take a strep test. I asked her why she refused to take a strep test, and she said she didn't care whether it was strep or not. You don't care? Okay... wait, what?
Then she gave me a shot of antibiotics, in my ass-- which I was FINE with, because my friend Guy got a shot in his ass once for strep and I know that's an acceptable medical procedure. But then she ALSO gave me a shot of painkillers in my ass, too, and I've NEVER heard of that, and neither has my friend Guy. So I'm pretty sure at that point she was just trying to humiliate me.
Then this conversation happened:
DR: Do you have insurance?
ME: Yes.
DR: Then I'll write you a prescription for antibiotics.
ME: Well, my insurance doesn't cover prescriptions.
DR: Okay, then forget it.
ME: Wait... do I need antibiotics?
DR: Well, maybe, but they're expensive. Here's what you should do-- you should lie, and say you don't have insurance.
ME: But I'm using insurance to pay for this visit.
DR: Oh... you shouldn't have done that.

After this Abbott & Costello routine finished, I realized that no one at the hospital had even asked for my insurance card-- after I insisted that they take my information, they wrote down my policy number on a post-it note and sent me on my way.
When I got home, I looked up the antibiotics she prescribed me. They're not for strep throat. They're for UTIs and Gonorrhea, so apparently she never got past that initial first impression that I was just riddled with STDs.
The only time in my entire life where I have felt this helpless was the time I had to go to the post office in Prague.

FOOTNOTE: I looked up the symptoms of Gonorrhea. They mostly have to do with the genitals. I am quite sure I don't have Gonorrhea, but I guess if I do, I can kill two birds with one stone.