Geritol and Castor Oil


Let’s just say that I was raised to think, if you wasn’t suffering from a sucking chest wound, you didn’t go to the doctor. Fever below 103* was no cause for real concern. 104* maybe a call to the doctor’s office. On your death-bed? Finally, a trip to the family doctor. This is my excuse for not running to the doctor every time something just didn’t feel right. After all, everyone is aging and things are wearing out.

Doctor asked me one time, when did my daughter break her foot. Huh? We looked at each other and tried to remember when that might have happened and we couldn’t think of anything. Talk about a guilt trip. Cheese and Rice, my kid had a broken foot and I didn’t take her to the doctor. She was probably injured playing and was told to walk it off. After all, her foot was still attached.

This would explain why after almost a month of some silly symptoms, that I would consider not normal but not life threatening had been put on the back burner. I finally made an appointment with my doctor. I love my doctor. He’s probably the happiest, friendly, thorough doctor I have ever known, other than my dearly departed father in-law. He spoiled me when it comes to doctors. My new doctor comes in second place.

He walks in the examining room yesterday with a big smile, shakes my hand and asks me how I’m doing. Before I can answer he says in his infectious laugh, “Well, you’re here to see a doctor, so maybe something is wrong?”

Thirty minutes into the visit, I realize I have more symptoms than I thought I had. Holy crap! I must be dying! The more I talk the more I realize maybe I should have come to the doctor weeks ago, even without a sucking chest wound.  Doctor is typing away on his computer and I’m talking away. Finally I run out of symptoms, thinking maybe I should just go check into the hospital.

I love this guy! After he listens to my heart and lungs he tells me he doesn’t know. What? You don’t know? I’m thinking. You’re the one with the medical degree!  Then I remember what my father in-law would tell me. “There’s a reason they call it practicing medicine.”  Doctor’s don’t always know what is wrong, of course, unless it’s a sucking chest wound or you arm is hanging on by one thin little muscle.

At this point he explains to me that he’s going to run a few tests and rule out a few things. Then we will start ruling out other things step by step. Being a cancer survivor he did tell me he didn’t think it was anything connected with that old story. That was good news. I was also relieved to hear he didn’t think any of my symptoms were due to my age or weight which is what I’m accustom to hearing. Also good news, he thought none of my symptoms were connected to anything too horribly wrong. He said my heart and lungs sounded strong and clear. Even my EKG came out good.

I would say all of this proves my theory of going to the doctor. I have always said don’t go to the doctor as they will find something wrong with you. In this case not so much. I don’t know if I’m happy nothing major stuck out for a diagnosis or if I wish he had a concrete diagnosis. In the mean time we wait for test results.

I think I might just need some Geritol and a dose of Castor Oil. That’s would mom would have given me. I would be good as new before long.


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