Doctor or Writer?

I saw a new doctor today. As usual . . . as with all the other new doctors I’ve seen  . . . he cannot do an office visit without a computer screen and keyboard. Doctors are addicted to computerized medicine.

“Slide over doctor, and let me heal myself” . . . if all the answers are in that machine, why not?

Then they get their feelings hurt if they prescribe a drug and I look it up to see what the side effects are and decide if I want to risk them for the benefit of the drug. Hey, they’ve got their computer and I have mine. It’s my body. I doubt they’d recognize it, if they saw it. But while they converse with their machines, I should do everything they tell me and pretend like I’ve had my brain removed when it comes to medical knowledge? Look at me, Doctor. I’m a person – not some kind of data entered into your fancy machine.

I am going to quit going to the doctor. If all they are going to do is get on that damned computer they’re all so enamored with, I’m going to skip the middle man and go to the computer myself.

I was at the doctor’s office this morning. It was a horrible visit. I was there over two hours. I huffed and I puffed and I was so worn out from all the tests his assistant did, and then when the doctor finally had time to speak to me, but he barely glanced my way, got on his computer and spent the whole time conversing with it while asking me questions. Sometimes he asked me the same question 3 times.

I think doctors are all secret wanna be writers. Maybe that’s it. Click, click, click of the computer keys is all I hear at the doctor’s office. They tell me what I owe and ask if I have any questions. No, thank you. I have my own computer. I’ll ask it.

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