Not Anthrax

Not Anthrax

A bit of topical humor for the day. On a visit late this afternoon to the doctor it was once again apparent that things are never again going to be as they once were. But this was a change, actually, for the better!

Here it was a workday evening, at about the time many are getting home. I was dreading going to the doctor's office for a walk-in visit, anticipating a Monday evening rush, as is often the case.

The waiting room was vacant. CNN was tuned in on the tube, and no, the receptionist said, she dared not change it to the Mariners-Indians game. They get real mad if she changes the station, she explained. Despite my assurances that during a visit over the Summer they'd tuned --with permission-- to the Yankee game, she declined. A vacant waiting room, stories on CNN about Anthrax in the Capitol Building, and no baseball game. How depressing.

And in a doctor's office waiting room, at that.

So the doctor finally sees me, after a shorter than usual wait. The pre-conference nurse is amazed at my excellent blood pressure, and sees that my recent blood tests look pretty good, except for the nagging Diabetic long-term-sugar retention matter. She tries to disguise her scorn upon hearing the small health-food-store's worth of vitamins I take each day in an attempt to correct the Diabetic issue.

In comes the doctor. We go over my symptoms, he checks me out, they (he and the nurse, this time a different one) conduct a rather gross and disgusting roto-rooter sort of procedure [1] on me, and determine (or perhaps better put, diagnose) the problem to be an infected ear drum [2].

Ba-da-boom.

This explains the headaches, the difficulty with equalibrium, the wooziness. Gee, the doctor opines, you ought to have a much worse headache given the condition inside your ear!

How reassuring.

After they roto-rooter my ears and cause even more dizziness, the doctor assures me I will heal. He prescribes an antibiotic, and tells me to wait until the dizziness subsides before driving home.

Good advice. At that point the room was spinning.

He is about to leave the room when I jokingly comment that at least it isn't Anthrax. And then, before I could explain that I meant the chunga-chunga-thud-thud-metal rock band [3], he starts to laugh.

"Every patient I've seen today has asked if their symptoms might be some form or strain of Anthrax," he explains. "Even one guy with a bruised foot!"
My head, spinning a bit again even now as I type, keeps me from further posting.

Except for this: wow, and thanks to the many who have linked to this blog for news and views on the recent events. It is very gratifying that people find it of interest, and link to it.