Today's submission comes from Sirena Ross. Sirena works as a Tour Guide and entertainer in Seattle. Her apocalyptic lullabies and dystopic poetry can be found at sirenaross.com. Her e-novella, Trouble with Robots! is free for Amazon Prime and Kindle direct.
20+ years ago I was rushed to the emergency room with a 105 fever, tachycardia and arrhythmia. [Ed note: that means fast and irregular heart rhythm.] It was determined I had none of the electrolytes that regulate the heart as well as pneumonia. I was given fluids and told to come back for a battery of tests when I was better, but the tests came back normal.
I had told the nurses and doctors my regular doctor was a naturopath. When my doctor requested the records from the tests, in my records they had noted that I was a mildly obese hypochondriac that was a regular at the Natural Path mental health clinic. Get it? Naturopath- Natural Path? Who knew hypochondria could cause pneumonia?
About 10 years after that, I had a condition called urticaria. It's like hives but can last for years, in my case about 5. I never heard the word urticaria from a doctor; I read it in a book. I often tore my skin scratching at night. It was so bad I put capsicum and peppermint oil on my skin. It was better to burn than itch. I went to several doctors who told me to switch laundry detergents or gave me steroids, which made the hives temporarily better might making me feel much worse afterward. The last doctor seemed willing to help only after I brought a male companion with me. When I'd come in solo, he'd given me the bum's rush. Finally, so frustrated with doctors not helping me, I looked in Merck's Manual and natural remedy books. I stopped eating white flour and sugar and it cleared up, slowly.
It was then I started to think doctors would be better replaced be advanced computer programs, a differential diagnosis engine. I mean, if I have better luck self-diagnosing at the library, why should I pay someone 80 bucks? That money can go to my massage therapist.
A few more years went by with me successfully avoiding doctors until I had what I thought was a cramp in Walmart. It hurt so bad I started to black out. Sidenote, I DO NOT WANT TO DIE IN WALMART! It passed and I was able to find a bench before I hit the floor. The next morning it was back and not going anywhere. I was rushed to the hospital and put in a room. I was screaming.
Finally after several hospital workers passed by to close my door which my friend would open so they could get the hint I might be in trouble, a Doctor I will call Dr. Dick came in! Hurrah!
What does he say to me? Does he ask my level of pain? How long I have been hurting? The area it hurts? No! He says, “Why are you screaming?” not in a concerned way but in a “jeez why won't you hush” way.
Cue incredulous laughter mixed with screaming from me. They have me drink blue fluid, then stare at my glowing guts with 3d glasses to find a fibroid tumor the size of a softball and cysts. Dr. Dick says the pain is being caused by a burst cyst and has nothing to do with said softball-sized fibroid. He wants to send me home. I have had a truckload of painkillers and I still hurt. I don't know how I'm going to make it until my follow-up appointment in two weeks.
Then Dr. Dick comes in grumbling and grumpy saying a female surgeon I will call Dr. Awesome in the lady-bits department wants me ultrasound-ed. He says it's not necessary. He knows it's a burst cyst but he has to do what she says. Twenty minutes after the ultrasound, I am rushed to surgery by Dr. Awesome. She says the tumor is causing torsion around my ovary which is filling with blood and giving serious thought to detonating.
In a few hours, my ovary and tumor are removed, Dr. Awesome saving the day. She even took pictures. So good doctors save your life while bad ones ask why you are bothering them so they can get back to their dreams of a world where obnoxious sick people are replaced by sunny days and perfect putting greens.
I would like to add that my original naturopath was a man. He was awesome too. By calling the bad doctor Dr. Dick I am not being sexist; I am being juvenile. I will also add the most thorough medical care I ever received was in Juarez, Mexico, murder capitol of the world. What's wrong with American Medical Care?