HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
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HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
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Friday, July 15, 2005Adventures in Medicine
I've said here before that I don't particularly like going to the doctor. I laid my reasons out fairly clearly. But I left something out.
Another reason I don't rush to the doctor when something is wrong with me is that, sometimes, they don't really help all that much. Case(s) in point: I had several appointments this week with various doctors around the city. It started off as just an acknowledgement that I'm getting older and, as I have health insurance and can afford it, I should make regular medical/dental examinations part of my routine. It so happens that these appointments came at a time when I was experiencing a few problems. The bronchitis I contracted toward the end of the school year was not knocked out by the codeine-laden cough syrup prescribed by the Doogie Howser-esque physician at the DOCS clinic I saw over a month ago. In fact, the infection seemed to spread to my sinuses (sini?) which left me with ten metric tons of mucus coming out of my lungs and nose at all hours and a cough that, while maybe less frequent, was just as violent as before I saw anybody. As I've mentioned previously I started having fun, fun back problems last weekend, for no readily-apparent reason. This always makes every day just a joy to live through. I still had water trapped in my ear from an Independence Day Weekend swim, which didn't really hurt, but did piss off my wife when I have to ask "What?" after every comment she makes. Additionally, I'd experienced some tooth agony last week, which I'd chalked up to the wisdom teeth I was supposed to have removed four years ago, but didn't, pressing against my other teeth. Well, I told myself, at least this will all go away after I see the doctor. Not so much. My main physician gave me two pricey prescriptions, a muscle relaxant and an antibiotic. He recommended upping my consumption of Advil and applying hot compresses. I did this diligently for two days, taking more pills than Jose Canseco in the playoffs, to no avail. My back is as twingy as it was before I saw him and I'm coughing as I type this. He told me that I had wax in my ear, which was probably serving to trap the water. He set me up with his Ear, Nose and Throat colleague, who I saw yesterday. The guy jammed his ear-pliers, or whatever the hell they are, into the side of my head and started poking. I really thought he was going to come out the other side. I swear I heard him say "oops" at one point, although I can't be sure because I couldn't hear, what with all the activity in my ear. He pulled out a bunch of wax, some ancient cotton from a q-tip and a fucking ham sandwich I'd lost in '87. When he was done, he said, "That feels better, doesn't it?" Y'know, I gotta say it doesn't. I still feel like the water's in there; my hearing is still impaired on that side. He said it was clear, but I don't know how much I trust him. Then there's the dentist, who did the fastest cleaning I've ever experienced and told me that my wisdom teeth didn't need to come out. I said, "Okay, but what about the pain that I'm getting from time to time that feels like my wisdom teeth are pressing hard against my other teeth." He said, "I think it's tension." Interesting theory. See, I don't want to think that the medical community is full of shit. Why, that would make me no better than Tom Cruise. But when I have experiences like these, all I can say is, if it looks like a quack and quacks like a quack...
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