Doctors today are charlatans!

I am uniquicly qualified to speak about the state of the medicial practice today. And it ain't pretty. DRUGS, DRUGS, DRUGS it's all about drugs.

Case in point. I have, what I considered, a very fine doctor at one time. It seemed he actually cared about his patients. He became, not only my doctor, but someone I would consider a friend. I thought I had found the immortal doctor, yet he fell victim to a disease that seems to be prevelent today. There is only one antidote to it and it's painful.

I clawed my way to the top, only to see the light, and jumped, to save my immortal soul!!

Why would I say this? Well I had polio when I was 18 months old. I have had the priviledge of knowing some super fine doctors and some snubs. The first Doctor I truly remember seeing was Dr. Black. When I was younger, I had a phobia about school. I had been with my Mother throughtout my illness and was terrifieed of school. Well they were going to put me into a school for the learning impaired. Doctor Black examined me and told my parents that all I required was a more challengeing education. I was bored. Yep, that they did. Thanks Doc..I was in and out of hospitals all my life. When we settled in Winston-Salem, N.C. I started going to see a Doctor Blunt. He was cool. Had a playground out back and, for a small child, a huge chalk board in the sitting parlor. The sitting parlor. You see, back then, you went to the Doctors home for an office visit. It still sits right there. I remember as a child being told to go play while Mommy & Daddy talk to the Doctor. He had a cool playground, swings, the suicidal merry go round, monkey bars, sand box and just a great place to play. Wait, most of those playground items are gone now. Get hurt to easy, might even learn a lesson or two from them.

So Dr. Blunt became the base for which I judged all other Doctors by. He was kind, caring and gave of himself..

Doctor Frank Pollock, surgeon, hand specialist and polio specialist. The first Doctor I ever saw cry. As I grew older, the differencial between my left and right leg increased. Now I had already had muscles moved around in my left leg (the one effected by polio) as much as possible, so they decided they'ed mess with my right leg. Good, strong, basically uneffected by the polio, until later life. So the differencial between the left and right legs grew to about an inch and a half. In elementary school, I wore a built up shoe with a brace that went from my hip to my shoe. Supported my weight when I walked or habbled (ran). I still smile when I think of the times I was called hop-a-long, or big-foot. I truly hurt then, but was my inspiration to prove them all wrong. So the Doctors cooked up this scheme. What they would do is stunt the growth in my good leg until after my effected leg grew long that the uneffected. So basically, they allowed the effected leg to grow past the uneffected leg. How did they do this feat? They inserted 6 1-inch square staples in my knee.


So when my growing spurt came along, out came the staples and they missed the growth cycle by only 1/4 inch. Not bad, not bad at all...

I recently have been diagnosed with either a minor stroke or Post Polio Syndrome. Since my sister had polio at the same time I did and she has recently been diagnosed with Post Polio Synrome, I'm betting on that. Although, my head ain't been right for a long time...

Anyway, at the age of 18-19 I cut my thumb off. That's a interesting story, but my parents called Dr. Pollock while one of those emergency clinics that use to be all over the Carolina hills, patched up my hand to stop the blood, that I thought look cool as it, spirting in the air. Shock I'm sure... Just plain old doctors that tryed to do the best they could against an avalanch of supersition and lack of education. Dr. Pollock told my father he would meet us in the Forsyth Hospital when we arrived. Damn fastest I've ever run down the interstate in a single ride....DAMN DAD!!! Well we arraived at the hospital and Dad ran in to get help. I decided I could walk that ten or fifteen feet. I don't remember who caught me, but face-on-pavement time had arrived. As Dr. Pollock examided my thumb he needed to check for the viabilbity of the nerves to be reattached. Asked me to let him know when he found a nerve ending. He probed my thumb area with a surgecal steel probe.... The whole emergency room knew when he found a nerve. I clawed, I begged, I pleaded with my Dad to make them stop. I was shocked when I saw my Dad with tears in his eyes as he kept knowding to the Doctor. I was thorowly shocked when I saw the nurse wipe the tears of Dr. Pollocks eyes.

So, those two set my standards for a "DOCTOR".


I have become so disallusioned about todays medical practices, it's depressing. No I would never again take anti-depressiants. That is one of the greatest lies a Doctor can tell you. I know from personal experiance. Why would I say all this...

This all started about 7-8 years ago. I went in for my yearly and a P.A. (Physicians Assitant) came in to see me. Now that truly didn't bother me. She is a very profesional person. I liked her right off, things have cooled, not that I don't like her now, just things aren't just kosher yet. But I'm a work'en on it!!!

On our first meeting, she came in, shook my hand walked to the far side of the examining room and was reading my chart on her tablet. She looked up and started with, I see your not taking an anti-inflamitory, I'll prescribe you one. Now, she had not laided a finger on me or asked any questions. She is making an assumption and THAT really bothered me, but it was our first meeting so I let it slide. I explained to her, I don't take medication just to be taking medication. Her respoinse, well her respose is what really caused concern for me. Well the patient is always allowed to refuse medication! in a truly snotty tone. Now, normally, I would have ripped her up and thrown her away right there, but I figured, new, young, proud and BROKE!!! Script writting has become the mainstay of a tremindous number of Doctors. So that got a pass that I don't normally do.

So that was black mark number one...

So, on supsequent visits, she continued with the script writing requests. I believe I actually let her write me a script, just to see if she would stop. She didn't. So about a year ago, I put my foot down. In no uncertian terms, do I take medicaitions for the sake of taking medications. If I truly need a pain killer, I will ask for one.

Now maybe I'm truly old fashion, but to me a year checkup consists of something like:

To me, you sit with each individual for a few moments gaging their emotianal awarness! To me, this represents the first and maybe the most critical of the examination! You are actually providing medical services to your patient!

So, I turn 65.. Medicare.. Yepiee...

So I go in for my medicare physical and she hands me a group of papers to fill out. OK, filled out. Now you need to go get a chest MRI and blood flow test. Well, don't you know, they found a spot on my lung. OH, it has to be cancer so we'de really like for you to come back in three months and get it rechecked. Nope, I said, I need six months. Then she calls and said my blood test came back and showed a heightened Red & White Blood Cell count was extermly high. Yea, I just got through telling this young lady, I was brought a German Shepard that was starving, pregnant and dying. Welp, that Shepard, everyone else said put down, sleeps a the foot of my bed during nap time and with her little sister, my ShitShu, at night. She has a hip issue that I'm not sure can be mended without a lot of surgiory. Yep, that Dog scratched me, bit me (just lovingly) and wresled with me while I tended to her. She had three pups, none of which survived. But, for me, it was blood and guts taking care of her. I'm suprised my red blood cell count wasn't through the roof. For me my white blood cell count, after all this, seemed normal.

Then she says my prostate number are up, it could be cancer. Well I lost a wife to cancer so I'm pretty familiar with the subject. I got a chance to do a lot of reading about prostate cancer and my conclusion, be causious of the currently thinking. This young lady advised me I should go see a urologists Oncologist. Cancer of the urinary tract (testes, epididymis, vas deferens, seminal vesicles, prostate, and penis). Seemed reasonable until I asked what he would do for me. She explained that the only way to determine if it really is cancer, a needle biopsy. What they do is insert a needle into the prostate and withdraw a sample of the tissue. They then analysis the tissue for malignant cells. Sounds all very reasonable, until once again I asked, So what if it is malignant? Well you will be required to take chemo (BULLSHIT) and possible surgery. I took some time and called around to see what the real scope was on prostate cancer!!

I have a cousin John, he is the son of my fathers sister. He is brillant. He was one of those reaseach Doctors working with his Mother and Father with the old Hong Kong cave people. These were people that China had thrown away due to lack of ability to be part of a striving country. They had gone above the city and dug caves in the side of the mountain. The list of diseases they were cataloging was phynominal. Their work is documented with the Catholic medical missionaries group. Anyway, the lad doesn't speak exactly correct, well I broke his jaw when we were much younger and dumber. At the moment I did it seemed reasonable. Now when I look back at it, not realising why he was doing what he did, makes me feel bad. Oh, well, leasons learned. So, I E-Mail him to get his opinion and of course he told me to drop dead, but don't have the needle biopsy. Love you......... HaHaHaHa Old joke.

He said, European medicain looks at thinks a lot different. Prostate cancer is one of the slowest cancers. There are hundreds of diets and natural suppliments that are just as effective, yet America has this White Coat Synrome. So, I look.

So I brew a little canabous oil. And for six months I stayed on a regiment of a teaspoon every morning, noon and night for six months. Went back to get the MRI of my lung again and found it to be fine. The poor young lady sounded so disappointed I wasn't sick or willing to take her recommendations.

I will admitt that I became seriously depressed for awhile. I mean my ass was a dragging the ground. I actually considered asking for anti-depressiants. And who, to my wandering eyes should appear, my old friend from yesteryear... He went out to the riding trail and brought home some truly good looking mushooms. I tripped for most of the night and man it was cool. Even the ending coming down was interesting. The Dragons are blue, believe me. I haven't had a desire to be depressed ever since.

Now I'm not advocating that you stop seeing a doctor!!! What I am advocating is education. It can literally save you from a medical mistake. Early diagnosis is still the best medicine. Just be sure you understand what is happening to you!! Be sure you understand what the benifits and side effects of anything they want you to put in YOUR BODY!! Remember that, YOUR BODY!! You have the final say in it.

Just me persoanlly, if the side effects are greater that the benifits, screw that noise... Example: white blood cell count elevated, no fever, no tirness, just some pain in my lower left read left quad. So the P.A. prescribes an anti-biotic for me. So look the medicaicain up only to find that the very first side effect was possible irreparable tenden damage. Hummmmmmmmmm nope that one goes to the side line.


But it has been sort of funny at the same time. Remember that form they gave me for turning 65. Fill out all sorts of information. Have you fallen lately. Yep, bumb leg, I expect to fall. Have you forgotten anything important and so on and so forth. OK, filled it out and returned it.

Six months later I go in for a followup on my lungs and so forth. She gives me the same form over again. So begrudgingly, I fill it out, but this time I mostly drew a line through things. I'm a very stubborn and gumpy old man. She asked me some questions and did very little of an examine and that truly is the part I have trouble with. At least listen to my heart, lungs and neck, I am 67. No let's waste time, what little time I have left on this earth filling questioners over and over again.

So I go in again. Theres that damn questionair. So this time I drew lines through all of it. She asked me why I did that. I answered with a question: why do you keep giving me the same questionair everytme I come in? I love a strightman in the crowd. She tells me it's to see if I've forgetten anything. My response, that's why I use the line. Tought to forget a line... She just shook her head... Bless her heart, she does mean well, just the current state of Doctor'en...

Remember, I laid out what I thought a pysical should be like? The form seems to take the place of that patient - Doctor interaction. That saddens me... It truly, truly does. Both the pysician and the patient lose an opprotunity to learn and grow. Now, it's nothing more than an assembly line medician. In and Out as fast as posible. Write scripts, make money, money, money, money!!!!!!!

You see, they say I am really smart... (go back and say it with a silly voice and lots of sarcasim) Just because I don't carry the letters after my name, don't mean they ain't none. I always felt like an idiot being called Doctor Billings... And when I would meet someone with a graduate degree, I absolutly refused to call them doctor. Only one person in the world, ever had me call them "Doctor" and that was my great friend and compainion Phillip Cole. It was me, Doctor Cole and MadDog Boren. I use to carry a business card my Father gave me. We have the same names. It went something like:

This is to introduce M. A. Billings, Jr.
the son-of-bitch from the main office with all the fucking answers.
Please Standby!

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