Wednesday, 9 May 2012

Take this. See me later for a lung transplant

My grandpa, Loyal Crown, took a tray full of medications each day for his various ailments.
As a result, he used to fall down a lot.
Granny Ina called them "spells".
Today, we might suspect that his "spells" were caused by the fact he mixed so many medications. That topic never came up in the 60s. He just fell down a lot until one day he didn't get up.
Farmers are suspicious of doctors.We only go to see them at the 11th hour and sometimes that means that we see the doctor after an ambulance visit.
That was how Granny Crown used to do it. She'd stay away from the doctor for years then something would happen, like the time she went downstairs for a bottle of beer and ended up being carted to the St. Catharines General Hospital with a fractured hip.
One thing we knew. Once you saw the doctor, you were in the system and that would eventually lead to death.
I start this blog with this anecdote because, when it comes to modern medicine, I hate to be always right.
I got into the system a few months back after finally finding a family doctor who I believed wouldn't kill me. He, in turn, told me I had high blood pressure, pronounced "I blude pwesseur" and told me I needed to be on medication, stat.
He didn't say stat. That was what George Clooney would have said. I just made that up.
He just handed me a script and sent me on my way.
Trouble is, when Dr. Ben (last name unpronouncable) put me on Coversyl Plus, he didn't mention that there would be any side effects. Simply, he shrugged, and said, "no you weel not feel any difference."
That was three months ago. About the same time, I developed a terrible dry cough in my lungs. When I returned to see Dr. Ben, he said that the cough "vas nutting" just a virus.
I accepted this sage advice and continued to hack up a piece of lung every day or so.
This cough has made me a pariah. When I start hacking, I pee my pants, my eyes start to well and my face turns purple. Everyone looks at me and I know they're thinking "you should be in a sanitorium".
I've had to start wearing Poise and glugging Buckley's mixture like a rubbie on Rideau Street.
The cough has also adversely affected my marriage.
Scott and I fight about it every single day.
He's now predicting I will die shortly of an embolism. (He says this to a hypochondriac!)
Yesterday, I went to the pharmacy to renew my prescription and get a half litre of Buckley's and I got talking to the young pharmacist, telling him my tale of woe.
He filled my prescription, charged me for it and waved me off. I was about to go on my way when I saw a light bulb literally explode in his head.
"Wait," he said. "The biggest side effect of Coversyl is a dry cough."
So today, I bounced in to see Dr. Ben who said: "Yes, yes, eet eez possible."
He gave me a new prescription.
"Theese one shoed nut give you side effects."
I was thrilled and went back to the pharmacist who said that even though I didn't use the medication I got yesterday, which is in a blister pack, he can't take it back. I'm out fifty bucks.
But I figure I'll save fifty bucks in one week alone by not having to buy a quart of Buckley's.
Still. What a rip.
Medicine, they name is shit.

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