The Caduceus Ouroboros
So I’m beginning to lose my sense of humor with the medical establishment. Our poor daughter has been tested, poked, prodded, bled, injected, scanned, charted, listened to, and generally messed with since before she exited the womb.
These myriad tests have been incorrect in every one of their postulations, and have done exactly fuck all except worry her mother and I sick.
And I’m coming to the realization that causing anxiety is exactly what these tests, and this entire system, is designed to do. After all, it’s a sound strategy for politics and television. So why not use the same methodology for the corporate medical complex as well? Keeping us, as patients, scared serves as a constant reminder that we need them.
And to give the devil their due, it works.
I say all this because, during what was supposed to be a simple weigh-in/measurement visit yesterday, a new doctor (our regular physician was apparently flooded in), listened to Daphne’s heart over and over and over until she’d convinced herself that she could hear a very slight murmur. This in turn prompted her to prescribe a full cardiology assessment with a specialist of her choice.
Thing is, we’ve had no less than 10 scans done of Daphne’s heart since she was in the womb. We had weekly ultrasounds where we listened to her heart and were told that everything sounded “perfect.” And she’s currently growing like crazy. (She gained another pound last week and is now in the 88th percentile for length.) AND she shows zero signs of any pulmonary issues like blue lips, lethargy or feeding sweats. AND heart murmurs are extraordinarily common in children, and most apparently go away on their own.
Despite all this, they still recommend that we take her to a cardiologist who’ll charge our insurance something to the tune of $15k for the privilege of being told, “hmm…let’s keep an eye on it. Come back again next month.”
Yet somehow, when a doctor says these things, you believe it’s necessary too. Because despite all rational judgement to the contrary, they’ve wormed a nagging voice into the back of your mind that chides, “oh yeah? But what if we’re right?”
So we’ve made an appointment with the cardiologist, although I’ve added one slight caveat. I want to take her to a new pediatrician between now and then, and see if they hear any heart murmurs. If they do, then we’re still on track for the cardiologist appointment and I’ll retract all the nasty things I’ve said about the clinic we’ve been taking her to.
But if not?
We will never go back to the medical test treadmill at [clinic name withheld] ever again.