Doctor, doctor, doctor, doctor, and doctor

Usually, I don’t do doctors. Group Health, our former HMO, to was lazy (which in the HMO business translates to “profitable”) so it was pretty easy to scam them into refilling my thyroid pills and (sometimes) contact lens prescriptions with phone calls. “Oh, gee, has it been that long since I had a blood test? Mercy! Could you just give me one more refill to tide me over?” Then, when that bottle runs out, call the automated refill line, and they’ll get the doctor’s clueless assistant to sign off on it. The contact lenses required occasional check-ups, but if you time your orders right you could stay away from the miserable Group Health optometrists for a year and a half.

No more of that. The naturopath last summer didn’t work out In this state, naturopaths aren’t allowed to practice anything like medicine, so all she could do was prescribe all these “nutritional supplements.” When I got home and did my own research, I found out that the crap she prescribed is pretty dubious, and that there are even studies showing some of the ingredients to be counterproductive in treating what they’re supposed to treat. Plus she didn’t know squat about nutrition, and wanted me to gain weight even though I’m not underweight. The hell with that.

So I went back to a basic doctor-type doctor for the thyroid pills. I needed a bit higher dose anyway, now that I’m not self-medicating with caffeine.

Tomorrow I’m going to this optometrist’s office downtown, just a block from work. It’s much hipper than Group Health’s optometry department–they’ve got the cutest gay receptionist you ever saw, and such blindingly beautiful frames I could almost chuck the contacts and walk around looking like Jane Cool in rectangular gray specs. But nah, I like contacts, and besides, the CGR says I could order as many at a time as I want.

Yesterday I did the dentist. No changes there, and my job gives us full dental benefits. I’ve been seeing the same guy for about fifteen years now. I like Dr. Whatsisname.

But my favoritest doctor is Dr. Lisa, who came over yesterday to look over Mike and Scarlett. Mike’s flea bites last summer got infected, which means he’s got scabby junk all over his butt. It got better for a while, but now he looks awful. Dr. Lisa to the rescue! She drives a mobile veterinary truck and makes house calls all over the area. She held old Mike by the scruff of his neck (“Makes him think I’m his mommy”) and jabbed his flabby fur first with a steroid injection, then some antibiotics. She gave both kitties a check-up, and trimmed Scarlett’s scimitar claws. (We keep Mike’s long, since he deals with the mice.)

There. *brushes hands together* After tomorrow, the only fixer-upper I have left is Josh the Computer Guy.

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