Mikel LeFort
As soon as winter began showing signs of breaking, those of us who survived the season without getting sick brag about their good fortune.
And then we promptly get sick.
I am coming to you this week from flat on my back, a laptop only adding to the weight that congested lungs are already providing my chest.
After seven days of trying to ignore the cold and not allow it to interrupt previously scheduled plans, I succumbed to seeing a doctor, the male equivalent of asking for directions, the female equivalent of heading to a public restroom without any girlfriends.
Men don't want to admit we're sick or we're lost. And when we are, we just want a quick answer. No drama. No long explanations.
Doctors see 1,000 people throughout an average winter complaining of my symptoms. So why can't they just save everyone a little time, and build a drive-thru window at their office where they can dispense with the appointments and dispense prescriptions.
Because.
No matter what you think you have, you will sit in the waiting room for 30 minutes and an even smaller exam room for 15 minutes to find out you are wrong.
I had explained to the doctor's scheduler when making the appointment that using my vast medical expertise, I must have contracted a sinus infection, because I had been suffering for a week, and a regular old cold would be gone by now. This self-diagnosis was consistent with being a man, because we always supersize our ailments when making a doctor's appointment - otherwise why go? We upgrade our sprains to compound fractures, our migraines to concussions, our bruises to internal bleeding.
But what I learned from my real doctor was that colds can last 7-10 days and, since I was only in my sixth day, I would have to wait until I would get a prescription for those life-saving antibiotics. In less-medical terms, I was being told “Stop being such a wuss.”
I received no more sympathy from my wife either, who believed that news of my potentially fatal sinusitis paled in comparison to Katie Couric leaving “The Today Show.”
So, left to my own devices, I visited the Eckerd's aisle in our bathroom cabinet. Because drug companies make a different medicine for every combination of cold symptoms, we have a cabinet which contains 127 different types of cold medicines and, like snowflakes and potholes on East Genesee, no two are alike.
Although I am not a doctor, I like to play one at home. To determine what I need, I simply match my symptoms with the box labels.
Sneezing, stuffy head, fever. No.
Sore throat, runny nose, headache. No.
Aching, sneezing, cough. No.
Sinus pressure, sneezing, sore throat. Not quite. Almost, but not quite.
“Honey, do we have any of the sinus pressure, sneezing, ringing ears stuff left?” I yelled downstairs to my wife, who seemed destined to require medication to cope with “The Today Show” loss.
“Check next to the migraine, ingrown toenail, gout bottle,” she shouted.
The process of finding the right medicine in our bathroom drug store can take so long, by the time I've weeded through the cabinet of 127 and found the one that's right for my symptoms, my sinuses have begun draining into my throat, causing a sore throat and a cough.
And you know what that means.
Sneezing, congestion, fever. No.
Aching, runny nose, headache. No.
Sinus pressure, sleeplessness, cough. No...
Editor Mikel LeFort can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 230 or e-mail mikel.lefort@lee.net
And then we promptly get sick.
I am coming to you this week from flat on my back, a laptop only adding to the weight that congested lungs are already providing my chest.
After seven days of trying to ignore the cold and not allow it to interrupt previously scheduled plans, I succumbed to seeing a doctor, the male equivalent of asking for directions, the female equivalent of heading to a public restroom without any girlfriends.
Men don't want to admit we're sick or we're lost. And when we are, we just want a quick answer. No drama. No long explanations.
Doctors see 1,000 people throughout an average winter complaining of my symptoms. So why can't they just save everyone a little time, and build a drive-thru window at their office where they can dispense with the appointments and dispense prescriptions.
Because.
No matter what you think you have, you will sit in the waiting room for 30 minutes and an even smaller exam room for 15 minutes to find out you are wrong.
I had explained to the doctor's scheduler when making the appointment that using my vast medical expertise, I must have contracted a sinus infection, because I had been suffering for a week, and a regular old cold would be gone by now. This self-diagnosis was consistent with being a man, because we always supersize our ailments when making a doctor's appointment - otherwise why go? We upgrade our sprains to compound fractures, our migraines to concussions, our bruises to internal bleeding.
But what I learned from my real doctor was that colds can last 7-10 days and, since I was only in my sixth day, I would have to wait until I would get a prescription for those life-saving antibiotics. In less-medical terms, I was being told “Stop being such a wuss.”
I received no more sympathy from my wife either, who believed that news of my potentially fatal sinusitis paled in comparison to Katie Couric leaving “The Today Show.”
So, left to my own devices, I visited the Eckerd's aisle in our bathroom cabinet. Because drug companies make a different medicine for every combination of cold symptoms, we have a cabinet which contains 127 different types of cold medicines and, like snowflakes and potholes on East Genesee, no two are alike.
Although I am not a doctor, I like to play one at home. To determine what I need, I simply match my symptoms with the box labels.
Sneezing, stuffy head, fever. No.
Sore throat, runny nose, headache. No.
Aching, sneezing, cough. No.
Sinus pressure, sneezing, sore throat. Not quite. Almost, but not quite.
“Honey, do we have any of the sinus pressure, sneezing, ringing ears stuff left?” I yelled downstairs to my wife, who seemed destined to require medication to cope with “The Today Show” loss.
“Check next to the migraine, ingrown toenail, gout bottle,” she shouted.
The process of finding the right medicine in our bathroom drug store can take so long, by the time I've weeded through the cabinet of 127 and found the one that's right for my symptoms, my sinuses have begun draining into my throat, causing a sore throat and a cough.
And you know what that means.
Sneezing, congestion, fever. No.
Aching, runny nose, headache. No.
Sinus pressure, sleeplessness, cough. No...
Editor Mikel LeFort can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 230 or e-mail mikel.lefort@lee.net
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