And they called it Bronchitis (doctor speak for pounding deep chest coughs and hacking through the night till the throat is shredded like hamburger meat and the head is slightly askew from it’s originally intended attatched position). And Sinusitis (doctor speak for a raging, throbbing, swolled set of nasal passages, that constantly drip nastiness and need to be blown profusely).
Aaaaahhhh. Said the She Doc. You have much post nasal drainage and a raw throat. And your chest sounds not so good. Does it hurt when I (thumps her fingers under my eyes)? Does it hurt when I (attempt to pull her lower eye lids above her brow)? Yes. Dammit. That’s why I sat an hour in your waiting room with the rest of the disease infested city, in plaintiff hope of medication that will alleviate the situation.
I think we can fix you right up. Just take these (hands prescriptions and samples) and get plenty of fluids and rest. After I just told her I have 3 children at home, who stay. with. me. all. day. As in, I can’t get rid of them to to this thing you call rest. Oh, well, take it easy, then. Does she live on this planet? Has she ever heard of children?
And why, oh why (and if you work in the health field, please please enlighten), do they send in the nurse to take all the pertinent information, only to come back in, ask the same set of pertinent information, thereby wasting time for all of us? Didn’t I just tell the RN what meds I currently take, where it hurts, and when my last menstrual cycle was? What the hell was that for, and why did he write it down, only for She Doc to pick up the chart, not to read a word of it, and ask me all over again, while I semi-refrain from showering her with bronchial poo. I. don’t. understand.
Nonetheless, tonight I am armed with the Supreme Cough Medicine God, codeine. And that? That was worth 3 hours with all the rest of a significant chunk of the winter flu smitten south east.
