If you are my dad or my brother or any other random guy you might just want to skip this particular blog. I refuse to be responsible for you learning too much information.
I used to work in a town 45 miles from where I live. It made sense to go to the doctor in that town because I would not have to take a whole day off from work to see the doctor if I didn’t get the first or last appointment of the day otherwise I would be driving for four hours. This doctor’s office was a satellite office for a hospital located in another small town. It had a cadre of two doctors and a handful of PAs including one named Jennifer who wore a toe ring. I usually ended up with a PA, but I did see the doctors from time to time. The one doctor was really aloof and condescending. I didn’t care for him much. The other doctor, the one I usually ended up was a real creep. He had a thing about social diseases. At one point I was having some recurrent yeast problems. After a quick exam he told me I had Syphilis and that everyone got it from toilet seats it wasn’t a big deal. He gave me a prescription for an antibiotic and one of those magical pills that take care of the yeast infection in one fell swoop. I could hardly believe my ears. After asking my husband if he had any symptoms I decided I needed a second opinion. I called the CDC.
The nice lady at the Center for Disease Control had all sorts of information including the kind suggestion that I look for another doctor ASAP. The doctor had not done a culture before diagnosing me, so he had no idea what he was talking about, according to her. I had already filled the prescriptions. Fortunately for all of us the yeast bomb thing worked and my problem cleared up, except that I had paid a man to accuse me of a disease I did not have. I went to the main office and told them I was not paying my bill because their inept doctor had misdiagnosed me, and that it wasn’t an honest mistake, he had chosen to prescribe without doing the culture. They agreed. My co-worker’s wife worked at the doctor’s office and she kind of hinted that he got busted pretty big over that.
About that time I started working a couple of days a week in another town. Then we decided that we were not getting pregnant as soon as we had thought we would so I started asking around about a different doctor. My friend Ann had a crush on a divorced doctor she knew through his PA so she suggested him. Since this office was in the new town I was working in it made sense to switch to Dr T, so I made an appointment for a couple of weeks out.
Then I helped my SIL move from Kansas and sprained my wrist. I couldn’t wait two weeks to fix it so I went back to Dr Syphilis, and he asked me if I had any social diseases as he looked at my wrist. Seriously.
Dr T did turn out to be cute, and pretty personable as well. In fact the last time I went to see him for my 14-point inspection he spent about 45 minutes with me answering questions about everything from the weird toe thing I have going to thyroid health. He is the one who insisted that I try scuba diving, and he was right. I drove past his house once, and it is tiny. He must spend all his money on alimony and vacations. He got married to a nurse a few years back.
And Dr Syphilis? He actually killed someone a few years ago and the state examiners came out to see what he was up to. I guess he is still working there.
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