I hate going to the doctor. It’s not really going to the doctor I mind as much as admitting that it’s time to take medicine. I resist to the bitter end. I begrudge getting a stronger contact prescription because I want my eyes to try as hard as they can to see unaided. When I have a headache, I drink water instead of taking a pain killer.
Today I finally made an appointment and saw a doctor. First, I had to find a doctor. I don’t even have a primary care physician. During college I used Mizzou’s Student Health Center since I was forced to pay for it whether I used it or not. Before college I never upgraded from pediatrician. Once in the summer I went to my dad’s doctor to make sure a puncture wound in my foot wasn’t infected so I could go backpacking in Canada. I liked him because he told me if I didn’t mind the pain I should go on the trip and just pop ibuprofen as needed. But he couldn’t get me in today. Luckily, my mom’s doctor could.
“You’ll like him,” she said. “He’s so young and friendly and smiley.” I doubted I would like him. Young and male equals kinda awkward. I’m usually more comfortable around men than women, but doctors are a different matter. Happily, today’s diagnosis required little more than looking in my ear, nose, throat and eye and listening to me breathe. I did like him. He was fast, efficient and friendly.
I have to temporarily surrender my dislike of medicine. I feel like I could run an in-home pharmacy. Turns out I have a sinus infection, an eye infection and severe allergies to boot. Drugs, drugs and more drugs are, naturally, the cure. Amoxicillin and eye ointment for 10 days, nasal spray until it runs out, and Zyrtec until the first snow takes out all seasonal allergies for good (then we’ll see how much of it is the rabbit). Very well, I will submit…for now. I have to admit, I’ve had practically instant and constant positive results from the nasal spray. But it will probably give me Parkinsons disease 30 years down the road. I just made that up, but that’s how I feel about medicine. They fill you with all these chemicals and often only later realize some of the more dire “side effects.” I generally expect my chances are better avoiding treatment as long as possible. I need a gypsy natural remedy. Oh well. Modern medicine it is.