I rarely go to the doctor. I rely on my intuition and do my best to be in close touch with how my body is feeling each day. I eat healthy most of the time and pay attention to what I put into my motor.
My feeling is that the business of "health" has gotten way out of hand. In the last 2 years I have I have been shuffled from one insurance company to the next because of our government sponsored insurance programs - which is a great idea but has some kinks to be worked out. I purchase one plan and then it changes - most of the time the premium doubles within the first six months for whatever reason, then I have to shop for a new plan.
Every human being is entitled to health care and no one should go into debt or die because they cannot afford insurance.
So I have moved to a new town, start to get settled and do some research to find a nurse practitioner/physicians assistant that I can establish a relationship with. I go once every couple of years to have a once over and make sure all is well.
I arrive at the address and it's a MASSIVE building that houses every kind of health crisis office you can think of - sleep disorders, foot and ankle problems, emergency care, sinus problems, pain management, cataracts, etc etc. There is actually a separate office for each of these things and more. The menu is extensive.
After parking at the back of a football size parking lot on a 98 degree day and finding my way to the second floor office, I walk in and feel like an alien who just landed on a foreign planet. I am handed an ipad device and told to fill out my health history before the PA can see me. I wait with a room full of the sick, the twisted, the wounded, the old, the young.....my mind is reeling.
Very soon I am called by a young woman to follow her. We go into the underworkings of this gigantic place. There are a line of 20-something young blond women students working computers. In putting chart information, making phone calls, looking at test results, keeping the wheels turning....
I talk with the young assistant after she shows me to my private room. She takes my blood pressure and my temperature and asks me a few questions. She's nice enough. She tells me to get undressed, put on the delightful gown and Brooke, the nurse practitioner will be in to see me soon.
She gently knocks on the door and walks in. She is in her mid 30's, sporty looking, all business but kind and listens to me as I explain the process of going through menopause, the weight gain and the little spot on my skin that seems to be changing a bit with the summer sun exposure.
Within 60 seconds of our being in the same room together, she strongly suggests that she write me a prescription for anti-depressants and that will solve every little thing. She talks about the different brands, making them sound oh-so-sexy, just like the drug commercials.
"You may feel a little flat at first, and there could be some anxiety and muscle tension as your brain gets used to the medicine, but then everything will be just fine. I can go ahead and write that for you now."
HOLY SHIT
In the movie scene of my mind I run screaming through the room full of waiting, medicated people, down the stair case, through the parking garage to the safety of my oven of a car waiting in the hot summer sun. I blast the AC, turn up the volume of the stereo and drive baby drive......
I thank Brooke, tell her it was nice to meet her, get dressed and walk away from this bizarre horror scene....
