It seems that washing your hands is better for you than taking lots of vitamins, at least in terms of preventing getting a cold. That seems to match with my recent experience watching the vitamin-C nut in our lab going through her sniffles.
Back in my day, when a kid had to start wearing glasses in Kindergarten, it was for sure that by high school, he’d be wearing coke-bottle-bottoms at best. Now they can start you on treatments, and keep your eyes from growing all wrong-shaped.
I wonder if it helps Astigmatism too.
So far, all the medical personnel seem amusingly enthusiastic about getting to give a guy a mammogram. There was the intern who tried to joke about how I can now know what women go thru, to the radiologist who expressed her amazement that I could stand one of her more painful squishifications of my swollen body-bit. So far, nothing new has been learned. It’s definitely not big-C cancer, but so far I haven’t heard any specific treatments. I guess that comes at the next appointment.
I try to tell them, “I’m not that kind of girl”, but they just wouldn’t listen.
OK, not really.
I have a lump in my breast which the doctors are quite certain doesn’t “feel like cancer”, but they want to do tests just in case. So they send me off to the lab with a checklist of tests to be performed. As I’m waiting, I notice one of the tests is the pregnancy test. I’m suspecting that since I was being seen at the women’s clinic, they might just have that always checked on their forms. Then again, there could be some odd diagnostic side-effect of a preggers test on men that might apply. Just so long as my insurance doesn’t refuse the charge.
So, I’ve got a lump in one of my breasts. I’ve been to the doctor before, and they’ve squeezed it and given me the brush off before, but recently it started getting larger, and painful, so I went back to my primary care physician. They decide that maybe since it is growing, they should take a better look, and refer me to the breast cancer group for further study and hopefully treatment. That’s when the fun began. Seems of the 5 numbers on the referral sheet they gave me, none of them are correct. When I finally DO get thru to one of the clinics, I get transferred around until they hang up on me altogether. It only took an hour on the phone to get yet another pointless appointment with a not-really-a-doctor who’ll just do the exact same thing they did at my PCP’s, who will THEN hopefully send me to someone who can actually do something.
Very frustrating experience so far, and I don’t even think I’m sick. I can’t imagine how pissed I’d be if I felt in anyways certain that my lump might be cancerous.
I remember well, the MASH episode where pierce plugs the hole in one kids aorta with a finger while he waits for another kid to die, so they can harvest is aorta as a replacement. It introduced me to the concept of cadaver harvesting. I know that replacing a torn ACL, the replacement tissue has to come from somewhere, it’s another one of those things you’d just rather not think about. Suddenly that hyper athletic guy, talking about how his 40 time is getting back in line with what it was before his injury, seems a little more like a ghoul, eh?
In the latest installment of medical ghoulery designed to help us cheat death, researchers have found a way to improve survival of rats, after extreme blood loss, by giving them whiffs of hydrogen sulfide, aka “rotten egg smell”. Don’t get me wrong, if I’ve been shot after shooting my mouth off once too often, by all means, do what it takes to rescue me, just also come up with something I can take so I never remember the specifics of how you saved me.