Damn You Weeties Box University!!!!

Ok. Ok. I know it's my fault. I do. My brain fog was in overdrive and my body was in the toilet. I shouldn't have gotten sick on the one day my regular GP doesn't work. Stupid Michelle! Stupid! I mean going from a cold to a chest infection on top of my usual Bob is clearly a deliberate foray into the world of masochism on my behalf.

I should add a caveat here. There are many many good doctors out there. I'm not saying they are all bad. Unfortunately though, you have to wade through a huge bag of crappy apples before you can find a lovely fresh juicy one. My cardiologist is a case in point. She's a big shiny juicy Granny Smith. (Oh Granny Smith! I miss you my forbidden appley lover, hopefully we will be reunited one day when my body gets with the program. Sorry about that. It really has nothing to do with this post, but I do so miss being able to eat apples).

Now I don't often go to my GP. I see my posse of specialists too regularly to really need to add anyone else to the mix. I reserve my visits to her for the occasional script or if I am super ill from something outside the realm of Bob. So my decision to go catch up with her was not taken lightly. If I could have actually breathed and kept my lungs in my chest, I would never have even considered a visit.

It sounded so innocent when the receptionist said, "Sorry Dr N doesn't work today, but Dr C is available". Obviously with the extra lack of oxygen my brain was receiving due to my cement filled lungs I didn't pick up the glaring unspoken warning that she was trying to give me over the phone. "Run to the hills, run as fast as you can, don't say yes. Noooo!". In my oxygen deprived state I stupidly said "Ok I'll take the first available appointment". Lets face it I was pretty desperate.

I may be picky, but I do think that to call yourself a doctor you should at least be competent with the basics and have read, or at least heard of, the Hippocratic oath. Having a big brain doesn't actually mean you should be a doctor. Maybe they could weed them out in some sort of Survivor type program. Just a thought.

I knew going in I had a chest infection, it's not my first and I know the symptoms. Thanks to Bob even a slight infection tends to go nuclear in a short space of time. So I expected that like my normal GP it'd be a 5 min competent event. I should have known better. Again, Stupid Michelle. STUPID!!

Struggling to stand, wheezing and coughing I stumbled into her room to be greeted with "So what's wrong?". Well obviously I was there for a bunion removal, this is clearly my normal state of affairs. I took a deep breath, metaphorically of course, physically that just wasn't possible, and said "I think I have a chest infection". She ignored this and kept looking at the computer.

Dr C: "Oh I see you had a hysterectomy"?
Me: "What?".

Ok I'm sure that's relevant? How? That was 11 years ago! I'm sure that's affecting my lungs. I also broke my right pinky playing netball when I was 12. I'm sure that to is affecting my breathing. I should have realised there and then that this was not going to go well. Damn my oxygen deprived brain!

Me: "The main thing to know is I have Dys...."
Dr C: "You haven't seen Dr N since the start of the year".
Me: "No that's because I only come when I'm really sick. This is not norma...."
Dr C: "Are you on any drugs"

Pass her my long list of drugs, which I know is also on the computer screen in front of her. She still has yet to look at me. She shoves the list back.

Dr C: "Have you seen any other doctors?"
Me: "Ahhhh Noooo? Just my regular cardiologist. Look it's just my breath....."
Dr C: "Are you on any drugs?"

WTF! Apart from the list I gave you moron.

Dr C: "Have you got a sore throat?
Me: "Sort of. It's not to bad. It's mostly from the coughi...."
Dr C: "How long have you had a sore throat?"
Me: "It's not my throat, it's my breathing. Look..."
Dr C: "Fever?"
Me: "It's hard to tell I'm always hot. As I said I have Dys..."
Dr C: "Nasal discharge? Cough?......" And she continues to check off her list.
Dr C: "Well it's obviously sinus".
Me: "No. My sinuses are normal cold gluggy. I don't have sinusitis. I've had that. My face isn't sore. I just can't breath......"

She starts tapping my sinuses, hard.

Dr C: "Does that hurt"
Me: "No".

Tapping harder.

Dr C: "It's obviously sinus".
Me: "No. It's not sore just like I told you".
Dr C: "Lets look in your mouth. Open".
Me: "Look my gag relex is a hair trigger at the moment due to throwing up from the Mestinon".
Dr C: "Well mines touchy too. Open".

At which point she shoves the icy pole stick so far down my throat I instantly gag and my mouth slams shut. She tries again and again, getting angrier and angrier. Same result each time. I so should have just thrown up on her, but I really didn't need that unpleasantness at the time. So she proceeds onto my lungs, finally.

Dr C: "Well they sound clear".

WTF. I'm coughing up my lungs in front of her and presenting her with big green chunks of mucus from my painful lungs. Onto the ears.

Dr C: "Well they are swollen they must be sore, it's obviously sinus".
Me: "No my ears don't hurt, its......."
Dr C: "Ok I'll give you antibiotics just in case. You need to sit in a hot steam bath to clear your sinuses and use lozenges for your throat".
Me: "Did you say hot steam bath? I can't tolerate heat".
Dr C: "You have a rare disorder. Take the lozenges. Drink lots of water"
Me: "What if I don't get better?"
Dr C: "Go to the emergency room".

With which she ushered me stumbling and gasping for breath out the door with a script for antibiotics. I couldn't even stand to sign the credit card slip.

Thus ended my visit to the gp. The worst thing was I was so sick that I didn't even have the energy to bitch slap her, or tell her what I thought of her. When I finally made my way to the chemist to get my prescription the pharmacist was so disgusted that she was going to ring her on my behalf. I had an overwhelming feeling of love for her that day. Luv you pharmacist lady!!

This highly competent, patient focused medico obviously got her medical degree from the internationally renowned Weeties Box University, along with her little plastic Transformers promotional car! The Weeties Box University does have a highly prestigious alumni including, Dr Death from the Bundeburg Base Hospital in Queensland, and Dr Peper who majored in tooth decay, obesity and diabetes.

Damn you Weeties Box University!! I really don't think you should be accredited to give out medical licenses. Being sick is hard enough without being forced to sell your left kidney to pay for sub-par medical care.

I think next time I get non-Bob sick and need an expert medical opinion I'll look up Dr Dre. He's sure to give me equally good medical advice with some cool hip hop beats to boot!

Time to go cough up my other lung. Pass me the lozenges.

Michelle :)