Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Moron's Guide to Medicine

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Hoping you're in great health ... and always will be.

Because Gods forbid you get sick in this country.

I've been seeing the same doctor for more than 10 years, in a tiny little office built for one doctor. I know my doctor. He knows me. This is the way family practice doctors ought to be. Seriously, I once took in my wand to show him! Don't know about you, but I hardly ever show anyone my wand.

Yesterday I had to go in to see Doctor Mushroom. (That's my pet name for him -- he's into holistic stuff and pretty open-minded, and if he's wearing anything other than a Hawaiian shirt it's because all his Hawaiian shirts are dirty.)

When I arrived at Dr. Mushroom's office, I had to give the new desk girl my driver's license so she could scan it into my records. This disheartened me, readers. Imagine that you are so desperate for health care that you would try to get it on someone else's account! That's the only reason I can think of that the health conglomerate that swallowed Dr. Mushroom's practice would need a photo ID of me. As I said, Dr. Mushroom knows me.

I already knew that I wouldn't be seeing Dr. Mushroom, because I was told that a new doctor had joined his practice. This doctor is a young woman who looks like she ought to be dressing for a prom, not dressing wounds.

Anyway, a new nurse (temp) took my vitals, and then the new doctor came in. Of course I asked why she had suddenly appeared. Turns out she was "transferred" from an office out in the country that didn't get enough business.

She was very nice, but completely detached, the way the vast majority of doctors are these days. I won't be showing this gal my wand, trust me. I only reluctantly pulled up my pants leg to let her look at my case of poison ivy. Out the door I went two minutes later with a prescription for steroids and a stern warning that they cause osteoporosis.

Dr. Mushroom would have turned a case of poison ivy into a 20 minute chat. That's how he rolled. Note that I use past tense. He's still alive, but so is Big Health. They must be after him to ratchet up the billables.

The only nurse I recognized told me that Dr. Mushroom and his new associate will be moving to a larger office on the region's busiest commercial highway. The little office a mile from my house is too small for two doctors.

Just now I sent a freakin Facebook friend request to my freakin doctor! This. Should. Not. Be.


Debra She Who Seeks said...

I had a doctor like Dr. Mushroom once. The most truly empathetic doctor I ever had. I still miss him.

Alison said...

I've never had a doctor like that :-( With the way health care has gone in this country, I probably never will.


we have 3 dr's here and one nurse practitioner..I love our new dr. Dr Cudje, but I sure do miss Dr Eisma..sigh*

Anonymous said...

I had a wonderful pediatrician and then a great, old-time GP who spoiled me forever. When my wonderful GP retired, I knew it was the end of an era.

My current doctor...while she's competent enough, the mood of the office is detached to the point of coldness. I only go when I have to. The last time I opened up about what was going on in my life the doctor told me to see a therapist and flew out of the room like I had cooties.

Yes, I miss the old days of bedside manners and empathy. Sometimes all a person needs is a sympathetic ear, not a psychiatric diagnosis and prescription. But ah, sympathy and basic human kindness don't make money for Big Pharma and the HMOs.