Grrrr... doctors!

So, after having my cold hanging around for about a week, and getting really tired of the coughing fits that seem liable to end with my lung in my lap, I called my doctor's office on Monday morning. First available appointment? -- Tuesday afternoon at 3pm. (Side note: is this just a New York thing, or are all doctors this crazy booked? I can only compare it with Doyce recently being able to call Kaylee's pediatrician and get an appointment right away. Anyway, another nice thing about the upcoming move.)

So, yesterday I work through lunch and leave around 2:30 to get down to my doctor's office, which is in my old neighborhood, four apartments ago. And I check in, sit down, and wait... and wait... and wait... and nearly fall asleep... and wait... and finally get to see the doctor, over an hour and 15 minutes after my scheduled appointment. She asked me a series of questions about how long I'd been coughing, exciting details about the consistency of my nose blows, etc., and a ton of other stuff, only to conclude that I must have asthma.

Really? Because I came in with a cold.

Is it asthma because you're paid by the drug companies with free samples and artwork in your office, and not one but two visits from drug company reps while I was waiting? It is asthma because that's what you specialize in? Because I've been coming to you for over ten years now, and you never thought of it before.

She listened to my lungs, stuck me in a room with some weird contraption that fumed some kind of medicated smoke in my mouth, and then tried to give me a prescription for an inhaler or something before I finally broke.

"I can't do this," I said, indicating not just the smoking thing, which I felt like I needed to remove from my mouth to breathe, but also wasting all my time, taking a prescription I don't intend to fill, and buying into her diagnosis. "I just have a cold."

"Well, I can't do anything for a cold."

Oh yeah? Well then SAY THAT!! Tell me to rest, and take OTC medicine, and come back in another week if it's not better. Don't push another diagnosis on me thinking it'll make me feel better. It doesn't.

Anyway, I walked out of there incensed, and determined to get better on my own (with the help of OTC cold stuff). Mind over matter. I want to feel better, so I do.

So there.

Stoopid doctors.