Doctors Make Me Sick


I’ll tell you a dirty little secret, and it’s completely and totally true. It’s probably true for you too, whether you realize it or not. Doctors make you sick. They do. They just, well, do. Let me explain, and honestly, pay attention now, because this is proven. Doctors make people sick. Doctor’s offices do too. There are so many different ways this happens, but it does happen, and I’ve found it to be totally true for me. And to make matters even worse, not only do doctors make me sick, but I actually feel worse when I’m going to a doctor regularly and I feel better when I’m not. Some of that might be psychological, but I’ll explain. Let’s look at this:


Okay, before going to the doc, I always get worked up. I get nervous just about seeing the doctor, nervous about what I’ll say, worry about whether I’ll cover everything I want to cover. I worry about the cost of the appointment. I worry that the doc will want to take blood and it’ll be a hard stick day. I worry that we’ll be late to the appointment. The point is: I worry. Worry is a powerful manifester of bad things. Worry is fear and fear blocks manifestation of good things. So psychologically, just preparing for the doctor’s appointment causes anxiety and fear and worry. Bad stuff.

Then there’s the getting dressed. Women in particular will understand this. You cannot go to the doctor without taking a shower, particular if you’re going to a ‘female’ doctor, that is, an OBYGYN (not a doctor who happens to be female), we all know you just can’t go to that appointment without being super ‘clean’, right? I mean, right? But even for a regular doctor’s appointment, we like to be clean and not give the doc any reason to think we’re slothenly or slobbish or don’t ‘take care of ourselves’, etc. For me, I wear nightgowns or big baggy long t-shirts around the house all the time. I hardly ever wear shoes. I hate shoes. Bras are torture devices, so my puppies roam freely (yes, there are those who appreciate this effect), and for the most part, I’m pretty casual around the house. If I do get dressed during the day–which is rare, I admit–I usually wear a baggy sweater or t-shirt and a pair or leggings or capri pants. They are comfy, skin tight, and did I mention comfy?

But going out in public, not so much. I have to get dressed. It’s strange, but people seem to expect folks to have clothes on when they go out in public. Go figure. But with all my health issues, getting dressed takes effort. Doing my hair and makeup and putting on a dress or pants and, *gasp*, shoes, this takes effort. And don’t get me started on the bra. I hate bras. The man who invented the bra should be tortured.

Add to all this that I don’t much like people, and going to the doctor means I have to deal with people, and not just people, but multiple people, not always the smartest or friendliest people, along the way, and we have a stressful day every time we go to the doctor.

So it takes a lot out of me to go to the doctor, both physically and psychologically. But I kill ’em with kindness, and put on my best smile and friendly face and everyone loves me… it just takes a lot of energy to BE that person any more.


So then, you sit and wait, feel like you’re not that important because they are in no big hurry to help you, and you sit with all the sick people who are sniffling, sneezing and contagious, and then finally call you back, ask you a bunch of silly questions that you’re not sure they ever listen to, and then you have to do what we all do: tell them what’s wrong. So that means putting yourself into ‘negative’ mode to tell them all the things that are ‘wrong’ with you. They don’t want to hear the good stuff, really, because they can’t fix good stuff–they want to leave that alone–but they need to fix the bad stuff. So you spend five minutes telling them all your physical ills, which really puts you in a great mood.

Of course, at that point, the doc will also ask if you’re doing what you’re supposed to from the last visit, chastise you for being overweight, or having too much liquid or salt or whatever in your diet, complain about your last labwork, or some such thing as that. Always pleasant if that happens.


Then you get to go get tortured by being poked with needles. If you’re like me, you’re a hard stick, so the likelihood of it not only hurting exists, but you’re also likely to get poked more than once. And of course, the phleebs who poke you never really believe you’re a hard stick, and they are all cocky and don’t pay attention, to try to prove you wrong, and end up doing the exact opposite.

I wish they would invent those Star Trek beds and scanners that you don’t have to have bloodwork to see what’s wrong. They can just scan you and know everything. Blood testing is archaic and complete torture. It’s cruel, unusual punishment.


Whether it’s a few minutes, a few hours or a few days, the wait for your blood work results to come in is sheer torture too. I mean, when it comes down to it, you know that those lab results are going to tell you things that you don’t know. Could be good news, could be bad news, could be news that leads to more tests and more waiting and more results. You never know, and the wait is the hardest thing. Especially when you’re waiting for results to something serious. But even the minor stuff can lead to major stuff, so there’s always trepidation.


Then they give you a name and probably a medication and they log and ICD9 code or something and you are stuck with a diagnosis. Well, you know what comes next, right? Internet research, of course! I mean, who amongst us hasn’t gone to WebMD’s symptom checker and discovered we had the plague? One time, I’m dead serious (see what I did there?) they said I had the plague or I was pregnant. Those two are not separate disorders. Obviously, a man wrote the script for that symptom checker.

Then after spending hours researching and reading everything I can find, I’m certain I’m going to die tomorrow, and that this is the absolute worst disease anyone can have and no one can possibly understand me.


I have discovered that every time I go to the doctor, I leave frustrated, depressed, sometimes angry, with absolutely very little new information, lots of money spent that was completely unnecessary and worst of all, I don’t ever FEEL better. They don’t ever make me FEEL better. When I’m paying them upwards of $300 for a 15-minute office visit, aren’t they supposed to DO something to make me FEEL better? I could have stayed at home in the comfort of my pajamas (assuming I even bothered with them–I’m telling you, if the world could accept a fat nudist, I’d totally be one), writing or playing around with my family and enjoying myself, not hanging on death’s door and worrying about getting poked with needles. I sometimes feel like I’d feel better if I had never been diagnosed with anything.

If a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, did it really fall?

Oh, wait, that’s not how that goes.

What about, If no one ever told me I was dying, is is possible I might not die?

Try that one on for size.

I think I might just intend to live forever.

But alas, last night, I forgot to take my 8pm meds. I didn’t realize I had forgotten to take my 8pm meds. Around 11pm, my chest was hurting. It was hurting pretty badly too. So I guess, when the meds wear off, I get to find out exactly what those meds do for me. Took the meds a little after 11, in about an hour, the chest pain was much, much better, and now, it’s completely gone. You know, I can’t ever forget that I’m sick–I’m too sick to ever say I have a ‘normal’ day, but there are days where things are almost good enough that I can almost forget HOW sick I am.

The sad part is when some little thing–like forgetting to take my meds on time–comes along and slaps me in the face with a reminder that, oh, you know, you ARE sick, now quit acting like everything is normal and go swallow your pills, you silly woman.

And so I do… I don’t mind the meds so much, really. I’m lucky. The ones I’m taking are all relatively inexpensive, they are relatively old medications so we know the contraindications and these are all relatively ‘safe’ meds too. I don’t have any of the negative side effects with these pills, none. I seriously have zero negative side effects from my meds–who can say that? I’m very lucky. I hope these meds will continue to work for me for a long time to protect my heart from any further damage and keep me alive and healthy just as they are. One can hope.

So yes, doctors make me sick. I’m tired of being sick, so I’m thinking I’m cutting back on my doctor visits. I know, this sounds so counter productive, but at some point in my future, I’m going to be spending a lot of time in the doctor’s office, the ER and the hospital–I want to stay out of those places as much as possible for as long as possible. So we’re going to limit our exposure to the medical community. Monitoring only as necessary.

It’s what I need to do right now to keep me sane. I’m tired of being ‘sick’ and I’ve found when I’m not going to the doc so often, I’m not only richer, but I’m healthier.

Just my take this morning….

Love and stuff,


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3 Responses to “Doctors Make Me Sick”

  1. Magena says:

    Michy, You are so loved. So glad there is hope for a cure and that you have caught things early.

  2. I love my gynecologist. He wanted me out of the hospital ASAP because “hospitals are dirty places. There are sick people here.”

    He checked me out as soon as possible.

    My son’s peditrician’s office said to let them know when I check in that I need to go back and sit in a room right away instead of waiting out in the lobby with possible sick kids.

    I always wear a mask when I go to labs, hospitals or doctors. I hate going. It is such a pain- just like you said, having to get ready, dressed, going, waiting etc.

    I know it won’t be next year, but I am hoping for a year with only one poke again. Man, those were the days!

  3. Oh Michy, I totally know what you’re saying about doctor’s offices…. Since I started freelancing (that is, no need to go see a doctor when I’m too sick to go to work in order to get a piece of paper for my employer, and no need to leave the house every day and in every kind of weather), I’ve been sick far less often than before. If I really catch a bad cold, I’ll just sleep in and take it easy for a day or two, might even do some work on my laptop whenever I feel like it, and otherwise wait it out. Wasn’t possible when I still had to go see a doctor every time I felt like sh**.

    There was one time in early 2010 when I had an appointment to get a new prescription for my asthma spray (old one was, well, pretty old lol). I felt really bad the day before and was actually contemplating calling in and cancelling the appointment because I was sick. No kidding!

    (((hugs))) Love and good thoughts heading your way, Michy!

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