Sunday, August 9, 2009
Having been pawed at by doctors I am sick and exhausted. I felt OK until the doctors got to me. I am not looking forward to getting truly old and being unable to defend myself from the doctors.
The word for this is Iatrogenesis.
The doctors decided that I have a "sleep disorder". They described a bunch of symptoms. In the interest of being helpful, I pointed out that I do not have any of those symptoms. In the interest of commerce, the doctors insisted that I would have to sleep attached to an expensive machine or two or they would take away my job. Under that threat, I attempted to sleep attached to the machines. Supposedly, I have trouble breathing when I sleep. The machine was supposed to help me with that. In fact, the machines cut off my breathing and made it almost impossible to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. After three nights without sleep I have all of the symptoms of someone with a severe sleep disorder. I fall asleep every time I sit down. I can't read without falling asleep. I can't play music without falling asleep. I can't watch a movie without falling asleep.
I offered to return the machine through the window of the sleep clinic but the nice receptionist negotiated a less dramatic return. Despite the fact that I have medical insurance, here in the country with the "best" or more likely, thirty second best health care in the world, I was forced to find a doctor who does not have a financial interest in the sleep disorder industry. I paid him cash and he examined me and found me fit to work.
This whole business drug on for two months. I am depressed, exhausted and can't shake this cold that has been dragging me down for weeks.
I have often expressed my admiration for Brownfemipower. She has had a few interesting things to say about the disease industry lately. Click here to read an excellent post.
Sunday morning is past, but it's still Sunday so it seems appropriate to post this little tune,
Sunday Morning- Elizabeth Cook (buy)
Elizbeth Cook is married to Tim Carroll, former Gizmo and Indiana punk legend. And yes, the song was written by decadent New York heroin afficionado and Andy Warhol associate, Lou Reed. Ain't life strange? They tell me that Lou is all cleaned up and nice to be around too.
Posted by Your driver at 3:40 PM