20 Ways to Know if Your Doctor is Unqualified to Handle Your Case
"MR. SICKNESS" IS ALWAYS LURKING
It’s not a matter of if, but when. I am talking about that rough area of human life entitled getting sick. And not with your garden-variety head cold, but seriously sick. So sick that you can barely walk and you despise how you look in the bathroom mirror. Plus you spent a lot of time in your bathroom with this serious ailment.
That time has come for you, Mr. Tom Vicks, age 30, married to a banker’s youngest and prettiest daughter, Allison. You and she have two kids; Chester and Sally who are both doing well in the private school you put them in this year.
You have taken all of the home remedies given to you by your “Aunt Judy,” and you’re “Grammy Dinkis,” who nursed you back to health when you had the mumps, and you are still sick. Your wife is worried. Your kids are worried. Your boss is so worried about you that he has hired a “temp” to fill-in for you while you are off the job. You hear cold rumors about your boss hiring retired Barnum-Bailey circus monkey, “Elmer,” to take over your duties at the office.
FACE IT. YOU ARE REALLY SICK
This is bad. Really bad, my friend. You have never in all of your mostly-healthy 30 years, been this sick. Your fever is pegging-out at 104 and you are hallucinating things like green elephants being ridden by Roy Rogers, King of The Cowboys, and a male chorus who are singing “I’ve Been Working on The Railroad,” perpetually and without showing any fatigue. You are now fainting a lot. Not that you are a drinking man, but the thought of opening a bottle of 20-year-old Scotch whiskey given to you by your grand old dad when you graduated Dartmouth. He was so proud of you.
Then on another trip to the bathroom, you decide that drinking Scotch whiskey is not a wise choice. You open the door to the bathroom and then faint. You are almost turning fainting into an Olympic Sport. And to make things worse, you are not getting better.
Your poor (and very pretty) wife, Allison, who was the head majorette at Dartmouth when you met her. It was infatuation right off the bat. You and Allison fell in love and graduated together. You went to Brown University for their under-graduate program and look out, so did Allison. If that isn’t love what is?
YOU ARE IN GOOD HANDS WITH ALLISON
Pretty Allison, with her perfect, taut body has been on the phone for hours calling various doctor’s offices, clinics and hospitals to find out if (a) doctor can see you this afternoon. I mean Allison loves you, but hey, she has a job and responsibilities too.
You are laying face-down on your floor. Seemingly, this is the most-comfortable place in your house, so you continue to doze here while sweet Allison is now about to say . . .”Eureka! I have found (a) doctor in the Westchester Medical Complex who will see you, Dave, at 4 p.m. today! Yip-eeeee! Are you proud of your little Allison?” You manage to give her a half-smile but the drool is running down your cheek.
Allison takes over. She walks you to the bathroom to help you get your shower. Seems like our college days, you think to yourself as the warm water droplets which feel like pellets from a pellet gun pierce your sensitive skin.
After you are dressed, assisted by Allison, you are ready for your healing to begin with you seeing (a) Dr. Jublestein, a doctor who was at the top of class at Johns-Hopkins University where he specialized in diseases of the body and bone. Dr. Jublestein, Allison explains to you on the way to his office, “has a very successful practice and he is called upon many times to fly out of the United States to see the son of a Sheik in Kuwait or maybe a daughter of a Duke somewhere near Britain. You feel better already at hearing just how talented he is.
Allison drives up and parks. The parking lot at the Westchester Medical Complex is stacked-full of BMW’s, Bentley’s, Rolls Royce, and a lot of Jags. This place must rake in the dough, you think. Then smile because you recall what your Uncle Tim, a traveling car battery salesman once said to you: “The finest restaurants are those where all of the big rigs are parked.” And you use that logic to convince yourself that a doctor this busy must be pretty talented.
Allison checks you in with the reception nurse as you slump to an empty chair (covered in fine leather) in the waiting room. Patients whisper and look at you for almost fainting. Again. But these are not redneck’s. These are all from the upper-crust of your town. They are rich, powerful and very influential.
One-half hour ticks by. “Mr. Tom Vicks,” a soft-spoken receiving nurse says as she smiles at Allison who has to assist you to the doctor’s office a short walk down the hallway. You are feeling better now and it occurs to you that your insurance might not cover an office call, but you keep that question to yourself as you and Allison walk into Dr. Jubelstein’s office.
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Other signs that your doctor is unqualified
YOU ARE TREATED LIKE ROYALTY IN THIS DOCTOR'S OFFICE
His appointment nurse who also acts as his office manager is looking down at her appointment book. Allison silently walks to her desk and clears her dainty throat. The nurse giggles as Allison caught her reading the latest issue of Sports Afield which had the story about a man who fought and tamed a 3200-pound Northwest grizzly bear.
Soon another nurse takes you by the arm and Allison is on your other side to make sure you do not faint and first thing you know, you are sitting smack dab in front of Dr. Jublestein’s huge, lavish hand-carved Norwegian Pine desk. But no Dr. Jublestein. You look at Allison with worried eyes. Dr. Jublestein’s nurse explains before he talks to his new patients, he goes to his secret meditation place in the building and just clears his mind as to be at his best when the new patient asks questions.
“This guy is all business, hun,” you whisper to Allison. She winks in agreement with you.
The time tick tock’s away. And you are still sick. Allison’s soft hand is holding your left hand to support you during this crisis.
Then without warning, in comes Dr. Jublestein, dressed in his finest Scottish golfing attire. You and Allison’s eyes widen out of curiosity. “What ya’ say, lad? Good enough for the Open next month?” Dr. Jublestein says with a chuckle.
Then he starts talking in a stern and serious voice. But after each statement, he stops, thinks about what he said, and writes it all down for later use.
You finally let go a sigh of relief. Your wife scored huge when she found Dr. Jublestein. Yes, sir—eee.
But before long you suddenly realize that Dr Jublestein may not be a qualified doctor, not just for your ailment, but for any ailment. So that is why I am giving this piece the title of . . .
“20 Ways for You to Know That Your Doctor May Be Unqualified to Handle Your Case”
- This doctor has posters of Larry, The Cable Guy and male body-builder posters all over his office walls.
- He mispronounces your name at least six times during the first ten minutes of your first meeting with him.
- This “talented” doctor dozes-off while you are explaining what is wrong with you.
- This “talented” physician is visibly flirting with Allison while you are yakking about your concerns about what this illness might be.
- You are almost knocked-down by the aroma of whiskey emitting from his breath as well as his office.
- This “talented” doctor takes phone calls without asking you to “excuse him,” while he chats with one of his doctor buddies about having a good ole night on the town.
- This doctor is almost-obsessed about how much money you have in your checking account.
- He seems proud of his swollen right hand as he reveals that he was doing emergency surgery on a rattlesnake who he didn’t think needed anesthesia, and suddenly bit him.
- This professional man of medicine’s hands are as dirty as an auto mechanic who has changed the oil in your car.
- There are several voodoo dolls and shrunken heads on his desk in plain-sight of his patients.
- His receptionist, “Tiff,” snapping her chewing gum, interrupts you talking to him about medical options for your sickness, to tell him that yet another bill collector needs to stop by in the morning to talk with him.
- This doctor certainly believes in total-honesty. He volunteers that he has had at least ten patients who have died under mysterious circumstances.
- He also jokes about “washing-out” of the medical schooling to become a plastic surgeon.
- In mid-discussion of your insurance assistance for his services, he asks you to let him have a hundred-dollars to “tide him over,” until next week.
- Making light conversation, you ask, “Do you live around here, doctor?” He chuckles and pulls back the drapes and points to an RV parked in the hospital parking lot.
- This physician asks you and Allison to excuse him while he uses the rest room. You both agree, but he whips out a two-liter soda bottle and slips it underneath his desk. He advises you, “best cover your ears at this point.”
- There is this strange and unnerving jungle music playing on his office sound system.
- One time you say, “Doctor Jublestein,” and he laughs and says, “Oh, that is just for tax purposes. My real name is Lou.”
- This man who took the Hippocratic Oath, asks you how to spell “colon.”
- He reaches to get a file folder from his desk and photos of nude men spill out on the floor. You ask out of fear, “Doctor, are you into nude men?” He laughs and replies, “Wy’ no, son. Those are some of my patients.”
Coming next . . .(Sorry. I suddenly forgot. I need to go shopping for a good doctor.)
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