Shell Shocked: Is there an old-fashioned doctor in the house?
Physicians are making abundant use of technology these days. In fact, so much so that the usual format of office visits is changing dramatically.
Last week I visited my primary care physician. In the past we used to have conversations. He would listen to a list of my complaints, make notes and then comment. Based on my symptoms he would prescribe medication or send me to see specialists. For example, when I complained of barking in the night he sent me to a veterinarian. When I told him I was allergic to Smucker’s Cherry Preserves he sent me to see a forensic psychiatrist.
All of my symptoms disappeared with the passage of time, shock therapy and chicken soup. I assumed that my visit with him last week would take the same form as previous visits. But it didn’t.
He had a tiny microphone in his hand and when I said hello, he spoke into the microphone: “Patient Art Stevens arrived with a chip on his shoulder. A review of previous cat scans indicates that the chip is now larger than in the past. I plan to send him to a stone mason in Fort Myers who specializes in taking chips off shoulders.”
I thought he was kidding. “Doc, I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I’m my usual engaging, congenial self. I bear you no malice and I greet you with joy.”
Doc: Patient exhibits polarized behavior. Evaluations of his previous medications indicate that matzo ball soup hasn’t taken the edge off his inner rage. I plan to send him to the pathology lab to conduct an autopsy of his pituitary and adrenalin glands. Micro-sledge hammers may be called for to get at the roots of his inner rage.
The doctor was so taken by the use of his hi-tech microphone device that he accidentally put the microphone into his mouth and down his throat. Now I had to play the role of emergency physician. I used the Heimlich maneuver to propel the mini-mike from his intestines. He didn’t appear grateful for my having saved his life. He immediately began talking into the microphone again.
Doc: Patient exhibited violence against yours truly. He placed his hand into my mouth, reached down and began yanking on my appendix. Fortunately, the appendix is an unnecessary appendage and isn’t required in the normal flow of life. However, it’s clear that more severe measures may be called for to alleviate his angst and reduce his pangst.
“Doc, I don’t have angst and pangst. I simply yanked the microphone out of your esophagus. The microphone didn’t belong in your esophagus. It only magnified the sounds of your stomach rumble. You should have a bite to eat.
Doc: Patient is now exhibiting bipolar disorders and envisions himself as a gastroenterologist. I need to point out to patient that practicing gastroenterology without a medical license is punishable by being appointed surgeon general of the United States. I’m counting on the injection I’m about to give him of rabbit fluff to calm him down.
“Doc,” I pleaded, “what ever happened to a one on one conversation between us? I think that microphone is making you into a robot and not a doctor.”
Doc: Patient is exhibiting a forked tongue and dangling participles. It just might be that he requires more severe medication and not standard rabbit fluff. And his dandruff is interfering with the signal on my voice note taker. After another quick review of his medical records I note that patient had tonsils removed at the age of three. Those tonsils need to be found and restored.
At that moment the door of the examination room opened and three of the doctor’s nurses came running in with syringes, a pot of boiling water, a strait jacket and hand cuffs. The doctor was dictating furiously into his mini-mike while the nurses surrounded me.
I pushed and shoved and managed to escape without a needle being thrust into my arm. I had several drinks when I returned home and began googling physicians who didn’t use computers.
No, not safe enough. I started googling Fort Myers witch doctors.