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Saturday, February 11, 2017


A few people, who love and know me well, have heard me make such broad statements as…

“I can’t stand doctors.”

“Doctors get on my nerves.”

“Doctors make me sick.”

“I stay away from doctors; they’ll kill you.”

Mind you, I have my reasons for my opinion and we all know that there some quacks out there who accomplish more harm than good in their practices, but I’m here today to make a public apology, because what I said was not what I truly feel. First; please allow me to THANK ALL MEDICAL PERSONAL who have made the sacrifices required to join the elite group of humans who diligently strive to alleviate the suffering of their fellow human-beings.

The true intentions of my statements is that:

I hate it when doctors act as though I flunked kindergarten; like I have no right to inquire as to their findings and recommendations. I despise any professional who maximizes their title while belittling those outside of their circle of influence.

Take for instance a builder who believes that only builders can read blueprints, therefore, they refuse to discuss plans and schematics with the lowly janitor. That seems to be the way that some physicians address the queries of patients, just because those patients don’t have a medical degree. I have asked doctors questions only to be met with sneers of arrogance and half-assed explanations for the prescribed treatments. There have even been instances of out-right hostility, as though my daring to question the care-giver was an open show of refusal or distrust. That was not the case at all. It never has been. But I have an innate need to know the “Whys and particulars” my own situation. After all, this is My Health & My Body in question. Even if it is a friend or loved one; the fact that they have trusted and invited me to join them in the examining room, gives me permission to make queries and seek answers on their behalf.

So, why behave as though I have requested sacred knowledge, just because I’d like to know more about this pill, treatment, surgery or procedure? Why the crappy attitude when I voice a concern? Why the hostility when I explain my disagreement? I understand that you are well versed in your craft. But I am very familiar with my body and my situation.  

For instance: I had just completed six months of physical therapy on my foot that had been broken in a fall. I was no longer limping, could wear regular shoes and I was feeling pretty-good about my over-all progress and despite having enjoyed my friendly specialist and her comical anecdotes, I was looking forward to being released and the end of the ninety-mile-each-way trips. My last visit was met with a new therapist, as my regular “Lady Doctor” had an emergency and was out that day. This new guy, who’d never seen me before seemed intelligent. He examined my foot and commented that I’d taken ballet. To that, I replied with an astonished, “How’d you know?” He explained that he’d seen many deformities of the feet; a result of toe dancing and the over-all punishment that dancers subject their feet to.

Then he suggested a corrective surgery that would provide great comfort. But he wanted to correct BOTH FEET AT THE SAME TIME! This would mean six weeks without the use of my feet! I thought “Has this guy been smoking CRACK!” So, I asked him did he realize what he’d just proposed?

·         Six weeks without walking would cause major cramps.

·         I’d develop digestive problems.

·         I couldn’t bath, clean my house, care for my animals or go to the toilet.

·         I’d soon be fighting depression from my inability to move.

·         I have just dealt with months of discomfort and inconvenience due to ONE broken foot and now he was proposing that I subject myself to more of the same – only, multiplied infinitely.

·         Not to mention that I would have to endure further rounds of physical therapy.

After breaking this down to this clown, I had to ask him if anyone had agreed to such nonsense. When he said yes, I could only shake my head. . . “Those trusting fools,” I thought to myself as I kindly declined his persistent offer to make my life miserable. Even after a series of firm “No’s” he kept insisting. I finally shut him up by asking him if he was late on his boat payment because he was acting desperate for money. Needless to say, that doctors visit did not end with hugs and smiles.

I still haven’t been able to figure out what would make a person think that I could afford to sit on my ass for six weeks for anything less than a life-threatening emergency. I’m a busy person with an abundance of responsibilities. The only thing he seemed to see in me was an insurance payment. And those kinds of physicians tarnish the efforts of the real Good-Guys & Gals.    

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