Dilemmas of a Health Science Student

I think a quartz of hypochondriac blood runs in my veins.

Not enough to declare Armageddon when my nose itches, but sufficient to cause heart palpitations with every noticeable ache and sneeze. I swear, if that ingrown hair on my thigh doesn't do me in, adrenal fatigue will. And it will not end pretty.

I've been ill these past few days. The usual: sore throat and fever.

Except the sore throats exceptionally sore, and the fever's... well... making me feverish; Or as one will call in my case, slightly delusional and paranoid.

To cap it off, I finger-felt a slight swelling under my jaw.

What in the world could I be suffering from? Swollen lymph nodes? Tonsilitis? Acute pharyngitis? Herpes? Primary HIV? CANCER?

Ohmigoshi'mgonnadiesoonandihaven'tevenexperiencedhalfofthethingsiwanttodo
plsplsplsidon'twannadiesosoonidon'tthinkicancopewithchemoorsurgeryforthatmatter

There goes my deranged pleading as I suffer bouts of jaw clenching pain whenever I attempt to swallow or move my poor, inflamed pharynx.

I went to my local GP today, to, you know, check things out. In my opinion, it was as lackluster as watching people watching paint dry. *forgive my weird lame language for today. As you know, I'm not feeling very well.*

As soon as I placed my butt on the folds of his cheap plastic leather straight-back chair, he asked :"What is wrong?"

So I answered : " I have a sore throat."

I wonder if it's habitual for physicians to listen to the patient's diagnosis and then dispense the 'I-knew-it-was-that-all-along' attitude along with unnecessary antibiotics, but, well... He was toeing that fine line between money-chasing quack and well-educated informed professional.

He looked at my throat and checked to see if I had a fever.

Then he declared :" Your throat is quite red."

Um... hello.

I wouldn't have noticed the difference if one night, miniature fairies took away my inflammation and replaced it with a full fairy construction crew attempting to drill iron leaden foundations into the very back of my mouth to build the Burj Al Arab of oral cavities.

So, you tell me. IS it supposed to be red?
Or should it have been dandelion yellow? Maybe a shade of Harbour Blue, with a dash of Rainforest Glow perhaps?

So I just nodded. And I stared at him. He stared back.

*Awkward silence*

It's at this point where patients take the opportunity to perform one or a few tasks that will probably weigh heavily on their health: Ask the doctor what is wrong with you, or thank him and walk out.

Obviously, I chose the former.

So I asked: " What do you think I have?"

Okay. So let's see. IF I were in his shoes, I would probably ask the patient whether he/she has any more aches, pains, unfamiliar lumps before concluding with a diagnosis. The doctor and I must be operating on significantly different wavelengths, because he answered:

"You have a sore throat."

Oh, my. I didn't know that. I thought the burning sensation on my pharynx was a way for those fairy workers to tell me they've begun piling work for the past FREAKIN' THREE DAYS.

Ok, so doctor, done.

When I went to the pharmacy, the mak cik at the counter threw me some lozenges and Clarithromycin tablets.

"Yangingyouambilduakaliseharisatudimlmdanstlgpdpagimestimknslpsmknnnn..."

Wow, if coherency was optional, I'm sure she'll cinch the top place of speaking informational gibberish, since some knowledge was supposed to be transferred somewhere amongst the jumbled alphabets that tumble out her succulent lips.

So there.

I wasted my morning, going to my local GP, just to find out I have a sore throat, and should consume some lozenges.

Oh yeah, and throw in a couple of them antibiotics to screw the insurance companies.