Doctors drive me insane, even the good ones.
As I have written about at some length, I love doctors, responsible as they are for saving the lives of two of my chillens. But they’re human and sometimes I swear I buy into the whole God complex thing. Or maybe they’re just so damn removed from the plane of existence where the rest of us live.
Had some dental work done today by an endodontist who seemed to know her stuff—although, really, how would I know? (Another thing wrong with McCain’s health care “plan,” as it places the burden of knowing what treatment is needed upon the patient—I mean, if we knew that, we wouldn’t be at the doctor’s, now would we?) But she was friendly and explained what she was doing.
And when she was done, she wrote me out a pair of prescriptions, one for an antibiotic, just in case, and one for pain relief, and advised me I was really going to want to take that before the anesthesia wore off.
So I get ‘em filled and I’m walking out and I look at the bottles, one of which says “ibuprofen.” And I say…is this just Advil or is there some, you know, good stuff mixed in there? And the pharmacist says, no, it’s just Advil. But it’s 800 mgs. Advil’s just 200 mgs.
And I think, right…so you take four of them.
And I do some math in my head and compare and contrast a bottle of Advil with the ten bucks I spent for the twenty pills here and realize these lil puppies cost twice as much per milligram.
Why the HELL didn’t she just tell me to take Advil?