Throughout my 43
years of life I’ve had some interesting doctors and medical situations. The first
one that comes to mind is the dermatologist I had when I was a teenager. I
suffered from extremely bad acne as a teen and was referred to this doctor. He
was pretty up there in years and was what some would call old school (A
dermatologist I saw a few years later had heard of this doctor and called him a
guru). To treat my acne he had me wash my face every night with chamomile tea
and then put some brown concoction on my face. Every couple of weeks I would
visit him for other treatment. He would have me lie down and would precede to
use this pointed instrument (much like the instrument a dental hygienist uses
to scrape one’s teeth) to pierce the zits on my face. This was extremely
painful. After that was done he would reach into a special cooler he kept
beside his desk. Once the lid was removed smoke would fill the area around the
cooler. He would reach in, pull out dry ice and precede to press it onto my
face. I did this for approximately four years a few times a month. During one
of my visits I showed him a wart that had grown on my foot. He took out some
liquid nitrogen and applied it to said wart. He pressed down hard. While doing
this he looked at me and asked, “Are you feeling excruciating pain yet?”
Wincing, I mumbled, “yes.” To which he pressed down harder. I swear this guy
was a sadist.
During my
university years I was living in an apartment with two buddies. Both of my
friends were over six feet and I was a mere (and still am) five foot two. One day
I was lying in bed and awoke to this debilitating back pain. I crawled to the
couch in the living room and lied down. I was in so much pain that I was having
trouble breathing. My one roomy gave me a muscle relaxant but it didn’t seem to
help. My breathing was getting worse so my roomies decided to call 911. When
the paramedics arrived they asked if I had taken any pills and I said my bud
had given me a muscle relaxant. He looked at my friend and said should I arrest
you now or later (luckily he was joking). I was loaded into an ambulance and
one of my roomies went in the front of it. One paramedic grilled him and one
grilled me as to what had happened. They both thought that my six footer
roomies had done something to me. Finally after five hours waiting in the ER a
doctor saw me and told me to take two Tylenol every four hours. I was a bit
irked by this time and got him to prescribe me some muscle relaxants so that I
at least got something for my troubles. The next day I pretty much stayed on
the floor lying on my back and drank beer. One of my friends went and picked up
my script. I looked at the bottle and began taking one pill every four hours.
The next day I woke up and looked at the bottle again. It turned out I had read
the directions wrong. The directions said take four a day. Doh!!!
Later on in life
I had settled down in Toronto and began seeing a person who would become my
favourite family doctor of all time. This guy was great but had a weird sense
of humour. The time period in which I saw this physician was during the peak
years of my drinking and drug use. He was fully aware of my risky lifestyle but
never talked down to me. He would mention getting help in a roundabout way but
never pushed it. I’m sure he knew that an alcoholic/addict had to decide for
himself to get help or it wouldn’t work. Anyways, during this time I would show
up at his office and tell him about the various things I was doing in life. He
would make comments like, “sounds like you’re having too much fun so we better
lower your dose of antidepressants”. One time I had to get a tetanus shot
because I stepped on a broken piece of glass (from a shattered beer bottle) and
it disappeared into my foot – never to be seen again. I asked him if the needle
would hurt and he replied, “like I’m smashing an iron bar into your arm.” He
then gave me the shot. One of the antidepressants he put me on had this side
effect where I could get an erection but could not release anything out of said
erection (if you know what I mean). When I told him this he replied, “the women
must love it”. I loved this doctor and was sad when he moved his practice. I
ended up writing him a letter a few years into my sobriety. I hope he received
it and is doing well for himself.
When I was
17-years-old I travelled to Israel with a youth group. I became very ill from
the water. As a result of this a fissure formed in my rear area which resulted
in lots of blood and hemorrhoids. I used to have to go see this doctor at the
aptly named Upper Canada Lower Bowel Clinic. My friends thought this name was
hilarious and I told the doctor he should put it on T-shirts. To make a long
story short I would kneel on a step and rest my body on a table. The doctor
would press a button and the table and step would start to move up until my
butt was way in the air. You can figure out the rest for yourself.
Speaking of
bowel issues– there was one day during my drinking days that I woke up with a
pain in the ole Gulliver (I love that saying), actually it was in my side. I
drank some wine and it went away. I awoke the next day and it was worse but,
again, after some drinking it away. The next day I couldn’t even lie on my
side. I went to a walk-in clinic and they misdiagnosed me with a clogged bowel
and gave me an enema. I just happened to have an appointment the next day with
my family doctor (this was before he moved away). He touched my side and I
jumped in the air (I was lying down). He told me to get to the ER right away.
It turned out I had pancreatitis.
To get back to
my family doctor situation. After my fave doctor moved away I sought a new
doctor. By this time I had moved back to Oshawa. I found a great doctor who I
liked a lot. One day I called up to make an appointment and the receptionist at
the clinic told me the doctor had disappeared. Apparently he just never showed
up for work one day. The crazy thing is she said he had done this before. When
I asked her what I was supposed to do about a doctor she said she couldn’t help
me.
I have since
found a family doctor. He seems pretty nice but he’s not as good as my
favourite one. I suddenly have these cysts growing on various parts of my body.
He keeps telling me not to worry about it. Hope he’s right.
Dave the Dude
