On Being a Doctah!

Not counting med school, being a doctor is easy. Once they finish all the book learning, those guys are pretty much set, especially if they become specialists, which says it all. Take the cardiologist I saw recently for five minutes after waiting 45. He arrived with no evidence of his trade whatsoever. He wasn't even wearing a white jacket, just a normal business suit straight off the Men's Wearhouse rack, or so it appeared. For all I knew he was a rep from a pharmaceutical company.

After our brief interview during which I recounted my symptoms he suggested a series of diagnostic tests and strode out of the room, leaving his assistant to fill out the required paperwork. At least she was dressed for the part, in one of those pink and purple doctor's-assistant tunics with stars and moons all over it.

A few days later, the assistant's assistant called to say that the doctor wanted me to take an additional blood test. All that was last week. Then today I called his office to see if anyone there could tell me if I'm still alive and got a recording saying they were "closed for the holiday." So, no results today. I went out for a walk while I still can.

Back from my walk, I returned to a message advising me that I need another test, this one an even bigger deal-- some kind of kidney MRI. So many tests! And I only saw the guy for five minutes! He must be really good.