Maybe the Good Old Days Were Better

I was thinking about the good old days and how much has changed. It’s astonishing, isn’t it?

We used to use landline phones.
Now we have cell phones.
Super convenient. Carry them in our pockets and our pocketbooks. Carry them everywhere. But we never call. Just text. So, are we really more connected with our friends and loved ones?

We used to watch TV with limited channel choices, and on weekends, we’d all go to the movies.
Now we have a zillion channels and rarely go to the movies.
More choices. It’s exhilarating, but overwhelming and so expensive. And the popcorn — at home and at the movies — isn’t quite as tasty!

We used to work in offices and meet for coffee and lunch.
Now we work at home and on Zoom.
It’s isolating, and I’m convinced it takes a toll on creativity.

We used to have fights with people.
Now we can’t be bothered. We just ghost them and move on. No explanation given.

We used …

Well, you get the picture. A lot has changed. Not everything, but a lot.

I’m not saying everything about the “good old days” was good. Lots of things about our new techno-streamlined world are terrific. A computer/library/music compendium/photo album/Farmers’ Almanac all-in-one, all in your phone instrument, is fantastic beyond measure.

HOWEVER, there is one thing from the not-so-distant past that I do miss. No, make that mourn. That is being able to call your doctor and actually receive a phone call back. Heck, I’d settle for an email back from the doctor himself/herself.

I Want My Mommy! I Mean My MD!

Instead, as we all too painfully know, we get email replies from medical assistants we’ve never met, who all too often think their job description is gatekeeper or linebacker and that their primary responsibility is to keep you — the pesky patient — as far away from the doctor who knows you and your medical history — as long as possible.

I am astonished — make that, outraged — by the nonsensical and flat-out unnecessary questions these minions of the medical “portal” ask, apparently without bothering to glance at a patient’s chart. For the love of Hippocrates, please just pass my message to the doctor.

And I’m not the only one who thinks this system of go-between email readers is sick. Doctors do too.

Twice, when I’ve complained about the farcical email fandango I’ve endured at the typed hands of their staff, the MDs have agreed that the substance AND tone of the message exchanges were unhelpful, wrong, and deleterious to my medical needs. Both times, the doctors said they would discuss what happened to ensure staff provided better, kinder, more prompt patient support.

Yet, truth be told, the fault doesn’t lie with staff. It’s an overtaxed medical system. Doctors are overburdened and too busy to respond to messages directly, so they delegate.

One More Medical Lament: Down with Tech!

I have a second medical gripe: Everything has gotten too high-tech!

Have an achy body part? Get your radioactive glow on. Without a doubt, you’re going for an X-ray, MRI, or CAT scan. Have an internal woe? Roll up your sleeve. You’re on tap for blood tests galore! All ordered via that online portal, of course!

Now, I’m all for thoroughness, but occasionally I’d like a little hands-on TLC first. Maybe I’m just suffering from indigestion or dehydration. You know, something minor or non-tech-fixable.

Bears and Band-Aids

Case in point: Two years ago, I had foot surgery. It solved the main problem but left me with a bit of nerve damage.

It only bothers me in bed when the sensitive spot touches the sheet. The orthopedic surgeon immediately prescribed gabapentin, which knocked me out like a dart gun given to a grizzly bear marauding trash cans in your neighborhood!

Obviously, I needed to function, so the ortho-doc lowered the dose and kept lowering it to find a level that was not too sedating. He finally had to turn to a specialty out-of-state compounding pharmacy to prepare a “baby” dose for wimpy me. That sort of helped, but even then, I wound up wearing a foot pad and a sock. It was bulky and uncomfortable. For two years, I did this.

Then, on a recent trip out of town, bad packer me forgot the foot pad and the sleep sock. Handsome Hubby, a non-medical degree-bearing person, suggested, “Try a Band-Aid.”

Skeptical, desperate me tried it. It worked!

All it took to protect my jaggly paw from the persistent nerve pain was a Band-Aid! A simple, low-tech, non-pharma solution. Dear Dr., don’t they teach you simple solutions to common problems like this in your fancy medical school? It would have saved me a lot of uncomfortable, sleepless nights. Sigh!

Maybe the good old days were better? I dunno!