I’ve been sick(ish) for 2 weeks and 4 days.
I’ve been urged to go to the doctor by every person with whom I’ve been in contact in the past week.
I don’t wanna.
No matter that a sizable minority of my friends are going into the medical field–I don’t trust doctors. I’ve seen House, in which people come in with a common cold and House nearly kills them before he finally realizes that, oh, hey, they just needed some ibuprofen and chicken noodle soup.
I’ve also had my own negative experiences with doctors–my last year of undergrad I was diagnosed with gout by the clinic on campus. I didn’t have gout, but I now have a gouty self-esteem.
I’ll grant you that on-campus clinics aren’t exactly the highest quality of medical care, but this February I went to an orthopedist who not only had the worst bedside manner I’ve ever encountered and drew all over my leg with his pen, but who gave me a vague diagnosis that essentially amounted to “I don’t know what’s wrong with you” and prescribed me some pills on the back of said diagnosis. Why, I ask you, would one take medicine based on a diagnosis given with less confidence than most people employ when ordering a Subway sandwich?
So anyway, tonight I was finally talked into going to the doctor by my friend Chelsea.
And I write this not so much to complain about medical care*, but to place my bet regarding what will happen:
I’ll walk in, the doctor will test me for everything from mono to a sinus infection to pregnancy to a swollen big toe, the tests will come back inconclusive or with some incredibly broad diagnosis that doesn’t mean anything, like “um. . .virus?” and I’ll get prescribed some completely random medication of dubious ability to cure me of my vague disease.
Anyone wanna take me up on that bet?
*I want the record to show that I know medical care can be and often is helpful. And I’m not just saying that because I hope to be able to live with my doctor friends when they’re millionaires and I’m a burger-flipping fiend at Mickey D’s.