I’ll admit it, I had a negative belief about health care in Ontario. After careful internet diagnosis, I determined that the crushing pain in the middle of my chest was likely gallstones. Taking a somewhat masculine approach to self health care, I decided to wait and hope that the feeling an alien was trying to escape my upper abdomen would never return.
Alas, after two more sequels and much nudging from parents and parents-in-law, I called my family doctor. I presumed this would begin a long road of scheduling appointments and setting up tests that would likely take all summer. I was unpleasantly surprised when the doctor’s office took me the day I called and then booked an ultra sound for the following week.
The appointment for the ultra sound was yesterday, and the staff at the clinic was prompt and jovial, kindly understanding that I probably wanted a coffee about then (which I did, but you have to stop eating for 10 hours before the appointment). The technician had warmed up the gel so there was no nasty shock to my uncaffeinated system. After 15 minutes of a one-sided conversation that went, “Hold your breath.” (held my breath). “Breathe away.” (felt I should be more free with my breathing…but didn’t know how…Damn, should have paid more attention to those Deepak Chopra videos.), the procedure was complete and I could recaffeinate and muffin up my upper digestive tract.
I should buy my doctor a coffee next time I see her.
