OPERATION HERO
Doctors worth the high expense
Dear John: I’ve always been a big baseball fan and my idols have always been baseball players — until I needed bypass surgery.
My new heroes are the doctors who saved my life. They do it because they care not for money or fame. When people complain about doctor bills, they should think about the years doctors put in studying to save lives. They are not always appreciated the way they should be. J.B.
Dear J.B.: Bravo for that sentiment!
And let’s not forget all the researchers who are trying to cure — or find ways to manage — cancer and other diseases.
But let’s be honest. Some doctors do it for the money. If that weren’t the case, none of the bright people in our country could afford to dedicate their lives to this profession.
So, anyway, glad you are feeling better.
Dear John: Looks like the prescription piece teed off some folks, which is good.
A “very disheartened” family practice doctor asked, “Do you know how many people think a doctor’s visit is worthless unless they get a prescription?”
Hmm, does that mean that the good doc is writing unneeded scripts so that patients feel the visit was worth it (and, of course, charging at the high- er-complexity office visit rates)?
Sounds a lot like the old antibiotic problem — patients demanding one if they were seen for a cold.
As the mailers and TV and radio ads say, “Do not ask your doctor for a prescription just because you saw a commercial for it. Ask your doctor if this prescription is really right for you.” B.M.
Dear B.M.: But some of those commercials are so good — until you hear them read the fine print.
“May cause death or disfigurement. You might want to kill yourself, even before you see the drug’s cost. And don’t take this drug if you are allergic to this drug.”
Seriously! If you have to tell someone not to take a drug if they are allergic to it, then you have to wonder if that person is really worth saving.
I’m very happy to provide the space where patients and doctors can vent about their health care experiences.
In my own life, my doctor’s visits are ideally short and needleless. “Hey, doc, how you doin’? Can I leave now?”
I’m out the door before they can write a script.
It’ll be different, I’m sure, when I am not feeling well. But my doctor, who is a woman with a sense of humor, insists on actually checking me out even when I walk in smiling and profess that she doesn’t have to do a thing.
But as soon as she puts on that rubber glove and dips her index finger in Vaseline, I know my wishes for an unmemorable visit are being quashed. “You are lucky,” she says in a German/ Slavic/whatever accent, “I have small hands.”
At that point you know, as they say, who has the upper hand.