Sometimes we expect professional people to have greater capabilities then they really have. We go to a dentist. We expect to arrive and leave with snow-white teeth and no cavities. We expect our favorite mechanic to keep our Edsel running like a fine Swiss watch or a Mercedes-Benz.
In the same regard, we go to a doctor and we expect to live trouble-free lives and die of old age at 110 years old. We forget that these people are no different from you and me; their excellence in what they do is acquired by the constant honing of their skills.
I have a great deal of respect for professional people, such as school teachers, Indian chiefs and doctors, who will be the focus of my attention.
Just think of all the body parts a doctor must memorize and integrate with how they function under different and changing conditions. With all the medications that are being invented every day, how do doctors stay abreast of the interaction of these drugs with other drugs previously prescribed?
If you had a sneezing condition, why would you want to take something to cure it if in return the new medication will give you bleeding gums, diarrhea, dry mouth, palpitations of the heart, and warts that will cover your body? Can the cure be worse than the symptom? When is it best to live with the sneeze?
Sure, the drug companies will tell you that the adverse conditions will only occur to 10 percent of the drug taking population, but I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that you will always be part of that 10 percent bunch _ I know I am. If you can get it, I got it.
Can doctors empathize with the people they prescribe medications to? Have they ever suffered the "heartbreak of psoriasis"? How about the effects of a diuretic on daily living? Have they ever taken a little gem of a pill called "Lasix"?
Picture, if you will, a Lasix-taking gynecologist. In the middle of an examination, she suddenly says, "Oops, I gotta go, right now!" She goes galloping away, leaving you high and dry in the stirrups. "Hi-yo, Silver, away!"
The only consolation lies in the possibility of you being on Lasix as well, in which, in this case, you can shout, "I hope you make it, doc" or "give my best to Tonto!" After that, all you can do is bite the silver bullet and hope she returns _ soon.
Now, like all pills, Lasix comes in a variety of strengths. The lowest dose is labeled "Dribble." The Dribble strength means that when you get "the urge" you will have time to stand, bow and excuse yourself from whatever you are doing and walk stately to the rest room. You can have the dignity of a stroll in the park.
The medium strength tablet is called "Rising Water." This means that when you get "the urge," you will need to seek the haven of a rest room posthaste. It means that you will have almost enough time to remove constraining garments before everything "busts loose." Any hindrance or hesitation on your part could spell disaster. Picture this as being similar to the start of the 100-yard dash.
The final strength, called "Geyser," is the maximum dose tablet, and comes in a tin box with a picture of Niagara Falls on the cover. There is a good reason for this. If you need a further graphic, picture the Johnstown Flood.
With this tablet, when you get "the urge," you will have under ideal conditions approximately a 30-second reaction time.
Reaction time is that lapse of time when your body signals "gotta go, gotta go, ready or not," to "just went." With the maximum strength tablet, there is no room for hesitation or button malfunctions. When the urge hits you, if you are not standing in front of a toilet you are going to be too late. Hopefully you are wearing Depends. If not you will end up with a wet shoe. Picture this as being similar to an episode of the "Keystone Cops," only at double the speed.
I was told that the word "Lasix" comes from the fact that the medication is supposed to clear your system in six hours. This implies that at the end of six hours the little atoms of Lasix look at their Rolex watches and say, "Time's up, let's go home." (I have no idea where "home" might be, but the bladder comes to mind, along with a kidney. I seriously doubt if they would go to the lower colon _ the air is quite foul and ghastly.)
All Lasix tablets may be created equal, but I am firmly convinced that some atoms have a poor concept of time _ or they are wearing cheap knock-off copies of a Rolex watch.
I can take a Lasix tablet at noon and will find that a bunch of Lasix atoms will suddenly wake up at 3 a.m. in the morning. These renegade atoms are very potent and will cause you to leap from bed to the bathroom in a single bound or pay the consequences of swimming in bed for the rest of the night. My wife solved all the problems by wrapping me in a large plastic bag with just my head sticking out.
I live in a state of confusion. My diet insists that I drink gallons of water each day while my Lasix tablets are calling "Suck that water down, we're ready for it." I can't get any work done because I spend the day drinking water and sitting on the "porcelain goddess" eliminating it.
As time goes by, I envision myself slowly drying out until there is nothing left of me but a pile of dust and a grease spot.
Henry Geerken is a three-time NYSUT award-winner writing humorous articles addressing retiree and senior citizen concerns. Geerken also writes for Sail-World, World Cruising Newsletter, regarding his many humorous sailing episodes through the years. He can be reached by e-mail at hgeerken@stny.rr.com.
