So, I decide, y'know, there are some pneumonias with very few symptoms, and if I'm gonna go to work Friday night, I might want to make sure I'm not contagious. Off I go to the walk-in clinic. I wait around for about an hour, and finally they take me. One chest X-Ray later, and it seems I don't have pneumonia, but costochondritis (an inflammation of the cartilege between ribs, no worries at all), which the doc explains in detail to me, spending Time telling me what "costo" and "chondro" mean, even though he knows I'm a nurse. I nod and smile like the idiot he thinks I am. He prescribes me Motrin 600 mg, (which I can get OTC by just buying ibuprophen and taking the prescribed dosage), and then he says, "Oh, and you have a little arthritis in your back." Well, I think. That explains why my back often hurts for No Apparent Reason (erm. Like now.) Then, the kicker--he smiles and says, "but that's perfectly normal when you get to be your age."
Now. Every female I have told this story to has uttered a variation of "so, did you slap him?" I wanted to. The guy had ten years on me, at least. If he'd been a twenty-something upstart, I might have hauled off and given him at least an earful, if not an actual slap. I'm not a spring chicken by any stretch, but geez. I'm not old enough for "when you get to be your age" lines. *kills*
*smiles, with teeth* It gets better. I ask him if I can resume my exercise program. He says, "sure, but don't do anything that causes more pain unless you like that kind of thing."
People wonder why I don't think much of Western medicine.