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This Feels Super Illegal

, , , , | Healthy | December 31, 2021

This is my great aunt’s story, from before the age of computers. Her regular doctor retired and a new one took his place. On her first visit to him, he diagnosed her with an illness and referred her to a specialist that he knew. He had to hand-write the referral and left the room to do so, returning a short while later with it in a sealed envelope.

Doctor: “Give this only to [Specialist].”

[Great Aunt]’s old doctor always wrote referring letters in front of her, he never sealed the envelopes, and the letters were usually handed to the receptionist.

[Great Aunt] was suspicious, so she steamed the envelope open to read it as soon as she got home. The note basically said that she didn’t have the illness he had diagnosed and also stated why he referred her.

Note: “This old lady is loaded; milk her for all she’s worth.”

YOU Are Causing Me Stress!

, , , , | Healthy | December 8, 2021

Me: “I have been feeling very anxious for a year or so, and now it is seriously starting to interfere with my daily life.”

Doctor #1: “It’s probably just stress. Let’s start you on this dose of [medication] and we’ll follow up in a couple of months.”

I continued to see him for a year or so, during which he only changed my dosage once and continued to brush off my symptoms as “stress”. Even if it was stress, I knew I was reacting in a way that wasn’t normal. Finally, I had an incident that caused me to black out. I went to the doctor again.

Me: “I’m really scared now, especially that this will happen again. I’ve been looking up my symptoms. Could it be possible that I have [condition]?”

Doctor #1: “Probably not, and even if you decide to pursue a diagnosis, it will take years and a lot of invasive tests. You may not even get a positive diagnosis because it’s that hard to test for. However, if you want, you can find a specialist.”

I never made it to a specialist. I ended up having another incident that resulted in serious injuries and I was in the hospital for weeks. The one good thing is that I had access to other doctors, and after describing my symptoms, they were able to run some tests.

Doctor #2: “We’ve concluded that your symptoms and accidents are caused by [condition I initially suspected].”

Me: “Really? My regular doctor said it would be virtually impossible to get that diagnosis!”

Doctor #2: “He did? You have all the major hallmarks; in fact, the primary one you complained about is particular to this condition. I can even show you on one of the imaging tests where the problem in your body is. I can’t believe your original doctor went that long without upping your dosage or trying you on a different medication!”

Fortunately, my condition is now under control after a lot of trial and error with numerous medications. Part of me still wants to go back to my original doctor and rub it in his face.

Fever, Or Fission?

, , | Healthy | December 2, 2021

I am a doctor, and a frantic mother has run into my waiting area.

Patient’s Mother: “My son has really high fever!”

Me: “Did you check it?”

Patient’s Mother: “No, but it must have been 200 degrees at least!”

I really wanted to say “Ma’am, that’s not your son that’s a roast chicken.” The son turned out to be fine.

Good Thing You Had Another Basket To Put Your Eggs In

, , , , , , , | Healthy | November 27, 2021

We keep backyard chickens. One day, we find that our hen Emma has been savagely attacked — we believe by a raccoon — as she was brooding on her nest. Emma is a big chicken; she probably got the injury because she stood her ground and fought the raccoon rather than letting it have her eggs. And since two small Silkie hens have disappeared, presumed dead, we credit Emma with saving the lives of the other two hens that are still safe.

We take our war hero to a vet that we use a lot, not because we like them, but because they are close by, open twenty-four hours, and treat birds. Emma is indignant and unhappy and obviously in a lot of pain, but she is feisty and pretty energetic for a hen with a giant piece of flesh torn out of her backside.

Immediately, I start to see red flags. They warn me that Emma might have to be put down because, if she was bitten by a raccoon, she might have rabies. Chickens get rabies so rarely, I don’t believe it’s ever happened in the US; the CDC claims chickens can’t get it. Because they don’t have saliva, they can’t transmit it if they do get it. Then, they tell me that there is nothing they can do. They can’t stitch her up. They strongly recommend that we put her down because chickens don’t survive injuries like this. They tell me she is “dumpy” — meaning withdrawn and low energy, seen in dying birds but also in ones that are just in a lot of pain — and that she cannot recover from this.

I have seen many chickens die. Emma does not strike me as a dying chicken. My husband and I agree that we cannot leave Emma with this vet. They’re quoting me $1,400 for an overnight stay, which is bad enough, but they’re recommending euthanasia so strongly that they make me sign paperwork saying that I am refusing the recommended treatment against medical advice. We both feel that if the vet there feels so strongly in favor of euthanasia, Emma will not survive the night.

There’s another vet that takes birds forty-five minutes away from my house and they’re not open twenty-four-seven. I demand my bird back. She has had no treatment aside from her wound being washed. They give me antibiotics and painkillers to give her but they have not given her anything for pain or wound treatment themselves. And by the time they finally hand her over, it’s fifty minutes until the other vet closes.

I drive like a bat out of h*** to the other vet and show up minutes before closing. They check her in and take her back immediately for wound care and painkillers. After about half an hour, the vet comes to see me. He wants to do surgery on her in the morning. He says that chickens are one of the toughest birds out there and he’s seen chickens live through worse. And the cost of surgery and an overnight stay is going to be like $350.

Emma has a long and tedious recovery, penned in our house because other chickens will attack a bloody wound. We have to give her antibiotics and painkillers by hand for twenty days, and she has to go back three times for dressing changes and once for an additional surgery, but for a sum total of around $600, I end up with a healthy if cranky chicken whose feathers have grown back so you can’t even see her wound, who is still laying eggs despite the injury to her butt, and who is once again Top Bird in the pecking order around here.

I’m never taking a bird to the first vet again if I can help it.

My Eyes Are Up Here, Seriously!

, , , , , | Working | November 12, 2021

I’m a 5’0″ tall woman with G-cup breasts, so my boobs are very noticeable. While I don’t do things to deliberately draw attention to them, there is no way to hide the fact that I have them.

I went to an eye doctor/eyeglasses store for a fresh eye exam and new eyeglasses. I wore a shirt with a mild scoop neck. Even with such a moderately modest shirt on, I couldn’t help but show a lot of cleavage.

After the examination, the eye doctor was assisting me in picking out new frames.

Me: “Which of these two frames do you think looks better on my face?”

He pointed at one.

Doctor: “I think those go better with your boobs. Ummmm, I mean eyes!”

Fortunately, I have a good sense of humor and his slip only made me laugh.