Trumpcare… Obamacare… How about ANYBODY care!??

20170517_144150You know there’s problem with the healthcare system when a girl who loves her cleavage as much as I do finds herself poised in front of a mirror holding an exacto-knife and pondering stabbing herself right between the ta-tas. Spoiler alert: I didn’t do it.

Since 2007 part of my job has been educating the public on utilizing their primary care doctors rather than emergency rooms. So naturally, when what I thought was a zit turned into a ping pong ball over the course of 3 days, I named her Laverne and then went to the doctor’s office.

‘Oh it’s a carbuncle/absess/boil type thing. No big deal. It doesn’t look ready to be lanced or drained. Here’s some antibiotics.

Well… all the antibiotics did was make Laverne very, very angry. Like shying-away-from-hugs-from-my-family and not-sleeping-at-night angry. Then, (because I am me), I thought my antibiotics had been stolen from my car (they weren’t. I found them in a grocery bag in the fridge -because I am me). So I called the doctor’s office.

‘Sorry, no appts available to refill those or check out yer new third boob, maybe call Monday or go to the walk-in.’

 I tried to wait til Monday, but the pain (pain in the chest from Laverne, and pain in the neck from Lonnie’s endless prattling on about messing up antibiotics and causing superbugs, death, and world destruction.) So Saturday morning, off to the walk-in;

‘Oh it’s a carbuncle/absess/boil type thing. No big deal. It doesn’t look ready to be lanced or drained. Here’s some antibiotics.

Obviously by this walk-in visit, I was a certified google expert in abscesses and knew that they usually don’t heal until they drain. But… she’s the doctor, right?

4 days later. I call the doc office again as Laverne is still growing.

‘We could probably get you in next Wednesday….. or you could go to the walk-in.’

5 days later… Pain is raging, the whole side of my boob is red and hot, and I am supposed to leave for Nashville the following day. Back to the walk in I go, determined to get this thing lanced. I mention the lancing and what I had read, she gets snippy,

“We treat this with antibiotics ALL THE TIME without lancing.”

AND THEN…

Oh wow… that’s really bad and it looks like you now have cellulitis as well. We can’t help you here. I think you need to go to the ED and maybe be admitted for a few days for IV antibiotics. If you don’t, you could become septic and die. Oh, BTW, do you have breast cancer history in your family?”

That was it. I starting crying and completely went off on that bitch. “WHY WOULD YOU GO TO THE BREAST CANCER PLACE RIGHT NOW!?? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” …..and off I went to the ED.

I was at the ED for a total of probably 20 minutes (I do work there 2 or 3 days a week, so I probably got a bit of red carpet treatment as I know everyone). Doc came in, said “YIKES! LET’S LANCE THAT SUCKER!” He also told me that the antibiotics she gave me did not treat what I had, as Laverne was a special gal who could only be destroyed with a combination of 2 antibiotics fighting as a team. And after I him my saga, he said, “Why the hell didn’t you come here in the first place? You know we would take care of you!?”

Why!?

Because I spend my career telling people NOT to go to the ED except for ACTUAL emergencies.

Because I spend an hour before every appointment and walk-in visit considering the money I could save by just stabbing that bitch myself.

Because part of the reason I cried in the walk-in was because I know how much an ED visit is going to cost me.

20 minutes, ok 20 GROSS minutes, and I was pain-free and on the mend.

How am I supposed to preach to people to go to their PCP when we all know none of them actually DO PROCEDURES anymore???? Talky Talky Talky… here’s some pills.

 

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