Doctors DO get sick!

A week ago, I published a blog post about medical providers getting ill. I casually mentioned that I had been coughing for a few weeks, proving once again, that exposure to sick people often gets the provider sick, too.

Our valley was filled with smoke from forest fires in the Sierras. The air quality sucked. Initially, I though my cough was due to breathing in all of this pollution. Besides, I didn't have a fever. With the exception of the annoying, persistent cough, I was still able to work...sort of. Not wanting to expose any of my little patients to my own germs, I decided to see my own family practitioner yesterday. Yes, my PA wife insisted on it. Like most men, even men in the medical profession, I need a swift kick in my stubborn butt once in a while. I just hate to inconvenience my patients by re-scheduling or missing work entirely.

So, there I was...sitting in the Waiting Room of a doctor's office reading some old magazine. Medical people can be the worst patients, but I was trying to be nice by cooperating. I paid my co-pay and was waiting patient-ly with the rest of the sick people. I like to glance around; trying to imagine why people were being seen. A few other people were coughing, too, so it kept others from looking at me. My cough made it quite obvious why I was there. There were children running around. Either they were not that sick or they were just tag-alongs. There was an elderly woman in a wheelchair, an obese man looking at his watch, a shy woman sitting in the corner (probably had some sort of "personal problem"), and a teenager listening to an iPod (I could hear his music, too). They were probably secretly checking me out, too, but periodically peeking over their magazines. We were all acting suspicious.

Finally, my name was called. "Rodney?" Don't you just love the kind of respect that happens in a doctor's office? No one calls me Rodney; not even my wife when she is ticked at me. My friends call me Rod. People that have never met me, and are 30 years younger than myself should really refer to me as "Mr. Moser". If she would have said "Dr. Moser", a dozen set of eyes would have lifted and stared at me. Anyway, the people looked at me anyway. Perhaps they were jealous that I was my turn, or perhaps they were trying to figure out why I was there. In retrospect, I should have limped on my leg to throw them off base.

"Hop up on the scale." As much as I wanted to "hop" like she asked, I restrained myself. I grimaced a bit when she proudly announced my weight for all to hear. Apparently, I was wearing about thirty pounds of heavy shoes and clothing.

"Let's take your blood pressure." I wish she would take my blood pressure; I don't want it. It was a little high, which I attributed to some anxiety of being a patient today. I just said, "Yes, let's do it."

"And, why are we being seen?"

"I am here because of my cough." As much as I wanted to say, "I am here for my cough; I am not sure why you are being seen", I bit my lower lip and restrained from my usual medical sarcasm.

She didn't make me undress, perhaps because I was not overtly sarcastic. I am sure if I would have given her a real hard time, I would be sitting in a paper gown with my bare butt exposed. It is best not to mess with those medical assistants.

My doctor came in, shook my hand (didn't wash his!), and took a brief history while typing my responses in the computer. He then listened to my lungs for a few seconds. That's all. He sent me off for an x-ray in the next building.

After waiting about thirty minutes, I was ushered to the back, told to take off my shirt, and get into a gown. The radiological assistant then asked me if I was allergic to anything. Allergic? I thought I was just getting a chest x-ray. Were they planning on medicating me for this? Not understanding the relevance of this odd question, I said, "Yes, I am allergic to fluoroquinolones and hymenoptera." She hesitated. I knew she couldn't spell 'em. Confused, she slinked away to her lead-line booth. This was my last chance to be little nasty, so I just had to do it. I did have a little remorse, but not much.

A few hours later, my doctor called to inform me that I had significant right, upper lobe pneumonia. That's just great. I coughed and headed off to the pharmacy to get my prescription...one that I didn't have samples of at home.

I took today off from work, inconveniencing any number of people. I am home, dogs at my feet, catching up on my blog and going through several boxes of tissues. I don't feel that bad, but my cough would be frightening to others. A few days of R&R (and some antibiotics, of course) will do me good.

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• Keeping Catchy Infections Contained

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