Thursday, August 17, 2006
Doctor, doctor, give me the news...
I'm not sure exactly what I've done to provoke it, but my body has officially declared war on me. It's like I'm Hezbollah and my body is Israel. Or the other way around. Whatever. The point is, it's not pretty. First there was the possible ear infection that turned out to be probable TMJ. After I'd managed to nurse myself back to health from that incident, bam! I get hit with a nasty cold. After the cold augmented into a possible case of pinkeye yesterday, I decided it was definitely time for a UN cease-fire resolution. Or, to drop this oh-so-timely metaphor, I decided to go to the doctor.
Except for a few visits to the Student Death Center in college, I haven't been to the doctor for an illness-related visit since I was in, or at least very close to, the single digits. Some things have changed since my last visit. Namely, the doctor I saw today was approximately the same age as me. That almost never happened when I was a kid. (OK, fine, it never did happen, no matter how much I wished Doogie Howser were my doctor.) I guess it's not inconceivable for someone approximating my age to have completed medical school and be set up in private practice, but it didn't instill me with a whole lot of faith. There was a medical degree on the wall, though, so I'm sure it's fine. Those things are pretty hard to fake. Right?
The medical history form that I had to fill out was also a lot more detailed than I remember. Granted, my parents handled that when I was a kid, so I guess I never really gave it much thought back then, but I've filled out a few for routine check-ups since then, and I don't remember there being such strange and personal questions. Like, why do they need to know my sexual orientation? Or, even stranger, my religious beliefs? Is that so they can make sure I'm not Jewish before they prescribe an intensive dose of bacon-eating? Or do they want to make sure I'm not an atheist so they feel OK praying for me in my sorry state? I don't get it.
The newest advance by far was that the doctor entered the exam room with a laptop in tow and proceeded to consult it during the visit. Given his age, I was initially convinced that he was having to Google my symptoms to figure out what was wrong with me. But I soon figured out that it was just taking the place of the notepad that doctors in the old days used to scribble on. Not only that, he used it to send a prescription to my pharmacy, which was ready for me to pick up by the time my boss forced me to go home for the day. Pretty nifty! Now if only the drugs could work that quickly...
I'm not sure exactly what I've done to provoke it, but my body has officially declared war on me. It's like I'm Hezbollah and my body is Israel. Or the other way around. Whatever. The point is, it's not pretty. First there was the possible ear infection that turned out to be probable TMJ. After I'd managed to nurse myself back to health from that incident, bam! I get hit with a nasty cold. After the cold augmented into a possible case of pinkeye yesterday, I decided it was definitely time for a UN cease-fire resolution. Or, to drop this oh-so-timely metaphor, I decided to go to the doctor.
Except for a few visits to the Student Death Center in college, I haven't been to the doctor for an illness-related visit since I was in, or at least very close to, the single digits. Some things have changed since my last visit. Namely, the doctor I saw today was approximately the same age as me. That almost never happened when I was a kid. (OK, fine, it never did happen, no matter how much I wished Doogie Howser were my doctor.) I guess it's not inconceivable for someone approximating my age to have completed medical school and be set up in private practice, but it didn't instill me with a whole lot of faith. There was a medical degree on the wall, though, so I'm sure it's fine. Those things are pretty hard to fake. Right?
The medical history form that I had to fill out was also a lot more detailed than I remember. Granted, my parents handled that when I was a kid, so I guess I never really gave it much thought back then, but I've filled out a few for routine check-ups since then, and I don't remember there being such strange and personal questions. Like, why do they need to know my sexual orientation? Or, even stranger, my religious beliefs? Is that so they can make sure I'm not Jewish before they prescribe an intensive dose of bacon-eating? Or do they want to make sure I'm not an atheist so they feel OK praying for me in my sorry state? I don't get it.
The newest advance by far was that the doctor entered the exam room with a laptop in tow and proceeded to consult it during the visit. Given his age, I was initially convinced that he was having to Google my symptoms to figure out what was wrong with me. But I soon figured out that it was just taking the place of the notepad that doctors in the old days used to scribble on. Not only that, he used it to send a prescription to my pharmacy, which was ready for me to pick up by the time my boss forced me to go home for the day. Pretty nifty! Now if only the drugs could work that quickly...
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