Recently, I got asked by a publication called “Physician’s Life” to write a little something about, well, a physician’s life. Apart from my concerns that the title of their publication suggested a level of comedy right up there with “Nun’s World” or “Accountants Gone Wild,” I decided to take the plunge and submit this:
As docs, we often take “Physician, heal thyself” way too literally. It’s not that we’re cocky. . . it’s just that we know no other doctor could be nearly as awesome as we are. My own physician parents insisted on NEVER taking us to see a real doctor, instead exclusively treating us themselves. Mononucleosis? “Here’s a Z-pack.” Fractured wrist? “Here’s a Z-pack.” Anal fistula? “Here’s a Z-pack…PR.” I quickly learned never to complain of back pain, because Dad would break out the anal wink reflex testing…followed by a Z-pack. By the end, I had Child Protective Services on speed-dial.
Lesson learned. With my own family, I resolved to always seek outside care. And I’m pretty sure a casual Up To Date search constitutes “outside care.” Now I’m not bragging, but when I do self-treat my family, outcomes have been phenomenal. My wife once complained of some abdominal bloating, so I naturally did a quick bedside ultrasound and diagnosed a degenerating leiomyoma. Over the next eight months, that fibroid grew to an astonishing 7 pounds 4 ounces — we named her Nina.
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