Eyestrain
If you’re ill, the last place you want to be is in a doctor’s waiting room. This is not just because with all the sick people in there coughing and spluttering, it’s like germ fond-du, it’s mainly because, now that everyone has private medical care, the only people in there are chavs. The sorts of unmentionable proles who eat soup with a dessert spoon at home because nobody is watching. Well, God is always watching and he despises poor table manners.
I was there not with the usual auld trouble, nor with the pox, not even with a shocking case of ennui, but with some sort of troublesome eye infection. Well, I thought it was an eye infection, the doctor said it was eyestrain.
Actually it was the second doctor who told me that. First I had to see some sort of trainee medico, Doctor Asian Babe. I was waiting for her to ask me how often I, touch myself, down there, while looking at pictures of ladies like her in their undergarments. Obviously it was inpure thoughts like this that had landed me with eyestrain.
Actually, in retrospect it was much more likely to be all the reading, watching telly, using a computer all day and most of the night and so on that had contributed but, hey, that’s modern life. The Doc told me to try and rest my eyes. Genius, how do I do that, they get really sniffy at work when you put your feet up for half an hour and snooze at your desk.
The solution to eyestrain would appear to be ‘live in the 1970s’, where everyone communicated by paper and when porn came in magazine form and really big breasts were in fashion, so you didn’t need to squint at the monitor, just squirt at the page.
On the other hand, I wondered if I could get her to prescribe me a big telly on the NHS, you know, a really vulgar one, one of those tellys that drug dealers have, something that screams ‘I have no social life, nor do I need one’.
In the end, the eyestrain just went away of its own accord, but not before I got those IT bastards at work to get me a new monitor – it’s so big that it comes with its own stand and, best of all, it’s clean. Christ along knows what my predecessor did at his desk but I swear there was a patina of stuff on it.
As for the diagnostic prowess of the modern medic, I wasn’t impressed with ‘eyestrain’. Even if it was eyestrain I’d have been a lot happier if they had wrapped it up in a little latin and given me a placebo. Since when do Doctors trust the patient. Obviously, they are fed up with people googling their symptoms, turning up with a load of opinions and self diagnosis having not been to medical school for five years, slaved every hour to pass exams, seen their family make sacrifices to ensure they get a quality education and then having the bad manners to actually be right about their malady. It must be galling to study like a bastard for years to get that white coat and some respect, only to be upstaged by a search engine.
I suppose the future of medicine is sitting in front of your computer telling a doctor your symptoms and hoping like hell he’s real and not a glove puppet or, worse still, a CGI being run by a malicious AI or, even worse than that, an actor sponsored by a pharmacy corporation. ‘Doctor, I’ve got this rash’. ‘I’m prescribing Dollman’s Vital Remedy.’ ‘But isn’t that what you prescribed for my headaches.’ ‘Oh yes, it’s very adaptable.’ ‘And when my cat had mange.’ ‘Are you sure that wasn’t your on-line vet, who looks a lot like me but with a beard?’.
Certainly it’ll mean Big Pharma is more transparent in their dealings with the patient. Up until now you’ve had to judge whether or not your GP is being bribed a little or a lot by seeing if they have a new car or just a tan in winter.
I was there not with the usual auld trouble, nor with the pox, not even with a shocking case of ennui, but with some sort of troublesome eye infection. Well, I thought it was an eye infection, the doctor said it was eyestrain.
Actually it was the second doctor who told me that. First I had to see some sort of trainee medico, Doctor Asian Babe. I was waiting for her to ask me how often I, touch myself, down there, while looking at pictures of ladies like her in their undergarments. Obviously it was inpure thoughts like this that had landed me with eyestrain.
Actually, in retrospect it was much more likely to be all the reading, watching telly, using a computer all day and most of the night and so on that had contributed but, hey, that’s modern life. The Doc told me to try and rest my eyes. Genius, how do I do that, they get really sniffy at work when you put your feet up for half an hour and snooze at your desk.
The solution to eyestrain would appear to be ‘live in the 1970s’, where everyone communicated by paper and when porn came in magazine form and really big breasts were in fashion, so you didn’t need to squint at the monitor, just squirt at the page.
On the other hand, I wondered if I could get her to prescribe me a big telly on the NHS, you know, a really vulgar one, one of those tellys that drug dealers have, something that screams ‘I have no social life, nor do I need one’.
In the end, the eyestrain just went away of its own accord, but not before I got those IT bastards at work to get me a new monitor – it’s so big that it comes with its own stand and, best of all, it’s clean. Christ along knows what my predecessor did at his desk but I swear there was a patina of stuff on it.
As for the diagnostic prowess of the modern medic, I wasn’t impressed with ‘eyestrain’. Even if it was eyestrain I’d have been a lot happier if they had wrapped it up in a little latin and given me a placebo. Since when do Doctors trust the patient. Obviously, they are fed up with people googling their symptoms, turning up with a load of opinions and self diagnosis having not been to medical school for five years, slaved every hour to pass exams, seen their family make sacrifices to ensure they get a quality education and then having the bad manners to actually be right about their malady. It must be galling to study like a bastard for years to get that white coat and some respect, only to be upstaged by a search engine.
I suppose the future of medicine is sitting in front of your computer telling a doctor your symptoms and hoping like hell he’s real and not a glove puppet or, worse still, a CGI being run by a malicious AI or, even worse than that, an actor sponsored by a pharmacy corporation. ‘Doctor, I’ve got this rash’. ‘I’m prescribing Dollman’s Vital Remedy.’ ‘But isn’t that what you prescribed for my headaches.’ ‘Oh yes, it’s very adaptable.’ ‘And when my cat had mange.’ ‘Are you sure that wasn’t your on-line vet, who looks a lot like me but with a beard?’.
Certainly it’ll mean Big Pharma is more transparent in their dealings with the patient. Up until now you’ve had to judge whether or not your GP is being bribed a little or a lot by seeing if they have a new car or just a tan in winter.
1 Comments:
i think you should join facebook.
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