It’s no secret that we usually go to the doctor only as a last resort. Most often, when the ambulance takes away unconscious. Okay, I’m not even going to speculate on the banal competence of the “treating comrades”. But how really tired (not to say worse) stupidity of the system as a whole. Let me tell you about my most recent visit to the clinic.
I got a big abscess (about the size of a walnut) on my backside, sorry. There’s nothing I can do about it except open it up. Besides, I don’t want to get blood poisoning. I go to the clinic. I honestly spent two hours in line to see the surgeon. The surgeon, after examining the problem, wrote what you need to buy in the pharmacy to open the pus and told to visit the office number 6. “It needs to be done,” he reasoned. I understand that with surgery, it may be necessary to get a blood test or some other analysis.
I got a big abscess (about the size of a walnut) on my backside, sorry. There’s nothing I can do about it except open it up. Besides, I don’t want to get blood poisoning. I go to the clinic. I honestly spent two hours in line to see the surgeon. The surgeon, after examining the problem, wrote what you need to buy in the pharmacy to open the pus and told to visit the office number 6. “It needs to be done,” he reasoned. I understand that with surgery, it may be necessary to get a blood test or some other analysis.
I go to room six. There a granny in a white coat, after asking my last name, said that she was going to find out my height, weight, temperature and blood pressure. Sorry, everyone, but I do not understand how these parameters relate to the opening of the abscess. The bureaucracy is annoying! Okay. I’ll shut up. I rarely go to the clinic, except for the dentist regularly, so let the doctors keep my anthropometric data. But the next thing the doctor said was:
– What was your temperature today?
– I don’t know! Why should I know if your office is supposed to take these measurements!
Next question:
– Tell us your weight, because our scales don’t work.
I’m telling you the one I remember measuring, I don’t know when.
– Do you know the height? We don’t have a height meter, we have a soft meter.
I’m talking about the growth of 25 years ago. The doctor decided to subtract 2 cm from it and wrote it down in the card. After that she measured my waist and hips with a soft meter, and after asking me if I had any complaints about my blood pressure, she sent me to an otolaryngologist to find out my hearing acuity, after which she was ready to open up the abscess.
Isn’t our medicine wonderful? Of course, there was no way a simple medical procedure could take place without the recorded height, weight, and waist volume. But it would not be so wild if they were at least measured.
I wish medicine were based on real tests and knowledge, not on parameters written down by a patient for some unknown reason. This is a completely real story that happened to me last week.
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