Duty · Fun With Suits! · Pains in my Fifth Point of Contact · Pre Planning Your Scene

FPC: Phenomenal Phone Company

A long, long time ago, in a state capitol city not so very far from here, I was seated in the basement of The Enormous Hospital System Mothership, where She Who Would Become TDW-Mark II was undergoing surgery of some sort. I was seated next to, well, let’s simply call him my father in law.

At this point in the celebrations, the divorce from The Plaintiff had concluded, and she and I had a week-on-and-week-off child custody arrangement. My adolescent children had cell phones, and had both me and their mother on speed dial.

So, Number Three Son had occasion to call me, but I could not make out what he had to say, and my attempts to re connect with him were for naught.

I did not know if this was generic adolescent ‘gotta call dad’, or something emergent. That latter was very unlikely, but, after all, I have kinda spent my life in the “this is sort of an emergency” business, and therefore considering that possibility is an occupational hazard. Therefore, since I was NOT at home, and, should my children need me, their ability to communicate that to me in a timely manner was mission critical, well, The Phone Company, and their inability to connect a freaking call something like 12 blocks from the freaking state freaking capitol, well, to understate the thing, I found it unsatisfactory.

Father In Law offered the use of his phone, on Another Carrier. I entered the number of my son, hit “connect”, and, par miracle’!, just like that, I was speaking to my son!

We concluded our conversation, since it was a generic “ought to call dad” call, and I asked Father In Law if I could make one more call. He assented.

I then called “customer service” (spit!) of The Phone Company. I explained my problem, and how this was not acceptable. Phone Company Minion asked my location, and I described myself as being one floor down from street level, in waiting lounge of Enormous Hospital System Mothership. Minion then regaled me with a bit of RF theory, to wit: “You cannot reasonably expect a cell phone to have a reliable signal when you are underground!”

I asked Minion, do you have caller id?

Affirmative.

Could you tell me the originating telephone number for this call we are having, right now?

He read back Father In Law’s phone number.

Is that a Phone Company number? If not, what carrier services that number.

Why do you ask?, responded the Minion.

“Because, that is the carrier who is henceforth going to be receiving checks from me approximating $200/month, because my phone, my childrens’ phones, and the phone of every mo$%#r f@!%&er who will stand still long enough to hear this story, will be giving their business to this carrier, whose phone I presently hold in my hand, in this basement, as you and I converse!”

Having said that, I realized that there is no satisfying way to slam down a cell phone. I miss plain old wired phones.

Fun And Games · Fun And Games Off Duty · Life in Da City! · Pains in my Fifth Point of Contact

Gotta Scratch That Itch!

A week or two ago, my MA returned from her lunch, and showed me her parking lot find: a couple of dirty syringes, with bent needles. “I found them on the ground behind my tire”, she related.

My thoughts were, ‘what sort of fool, even among the universe of fools who inject drugs, leaves a freaking needle on the ground in a parking lot, where children come and go on their way to their own physician appointments?’

@

So, just the other day, TDW-Mark II needed to recharge her cash card. Off to her bank we went. The gentleman attending to her transaction appeared to be somewhere in his twenties, whereas I, myself, am approaching 70 (and so closely approaching 70, that 70 has started to tap his brakes, and slow down, in hopes that I would not admire his bumper so closely anymore!).

TDW was making conversation with this gentleman, and he was owning that this sort of transaction was unfamiliar to him. TDW then up and chirps, “It must be hard on poor elderly people, who don’t have computers, or know how to use them! That whole smart phone, and computer banking thing can be rough on the elderly!”

I looked at her for a moment, and spoke up. “Am I not standing right here? You CAN see me, right? Really? I. Am. Right. Here!”

Duty · Fun And Games · Fun With Suits! · Pains in my Fifth Point of Contact

Moar! Random Thoughts!

The other day, I saw some soul, who was vexed by an itchy rash. I interviewed said soul, examined, and prescribed a steroid cream to soothe the rash. My instructions, in the prescription, were “Apply thin layer to rash twice a day”

Later that day, my MA fielded a call from the pharmacy inquiring where the rash was? (as in, I suppose, where on the patient’s body). I therefore had to complete the thought that I was charting on a completely different patient, find the chart for the patient, open that chart, review my note from several hours ago, and answer the query.

Foolishly, I had assumed (…yeah, I know. AssU-ME.) that “the rash” was specific enough, but, it seems, no…

In a similar vein, I continue to receive prior authorization requests. This is maddening, because (a) I typically attempt to prescribe the exact same thing previously prescribed. For, say, asthmatics, that means I attempt to prescribe the-flavor-of-the-month of albuterol inhalers. In addition, (b) years and years ago our Fly Over State Legislature passed legislation mandating substitution of generic, equivalent, medications unless the brand is specified, with the specific instruction of “dispense as written”. Silly me, I had supposed that when I prescribed albuterol, which is the generic name, that this generic substitution law would allow the pharmacist, who has access to the “menu special of the day” that the insurance company will subsidize, could then think, so to speak, “Hmm. McFee wants albuterol, but the insurance company will only subsidize Youcallwehaul brand of albuterol inhaler. Howzabout I simply fix that, and dispense the Youcallwehaul inhaler, just as if it were not a BRAND of ALBUTEROL, but, indeed could be considered equivalent to the generic albuterol inhaler that Our Hero had indeed prescribed?”

Had that occurred, I would not get a paper note spending pages and pages to tell me that the Useless Insurance Company Inc., would not pay for the generic inhaler, but would, rather, pay for the Youcallwehaul inhaler, no doubt reflecting the proud legacy of pharmaceutical excellence that has characterized the Pashmir Valley since January of 2022!

And receive that note several days AFTER my patient encounter.

All the while telling me that they would not pay for a non preferred inhaler until two other inhalers had been employed, and had failed.

So, that means that my patient has NOT had their freaking inhaler for (lessee, now: Friday visit, Monday denial, Thursday, if they are attentive (scoff!), mailing date for the voluminous tutorial on the pharmaceutical excellence of Bagwan’s Pharmacy And Weapons Factory, which I finally see, perhaps as soon as a full week after my patient encounter.) So, something like 8 days, more or less.

Let’s paw through the old chart, and review previous prescribed inhalers, shan’t we? Lessee, there is Ventolin, and then there was that time this soul received…Ventolin, and, of course, the last time when one of my colleagues prescribed…..er, Ventolin. So, imagine my surprise when I prescribed (lessee: what was that stuff?)…Oh, yes. Ventolin!

And I receive the previously described voluminous correspondence detailing why the Behemoth Insurance Company would not pay for the prescription of….er, Ventolin.

I really try to embrace the suck, but geez, ya know…

cats · Fun And Games Off Duty · Life in Da City!

SNIPPETS PART IV

I hope that nobody is surprised to learn that, since The Un-Named Fly-Over State is in the northern tier of states, it snows here in the winter (And the fall. And the spring.) That has been the case for certainly the past nearly 70 years that I have been here. Therefore I would hope that my neighbors would have figured that shit out, by now.

On the other hand, there is abundant evidence that my hope in this matter is misplaced.

So, TINS, TIWFDASL…well, OK, I was driving in to work one snowy winter day in order to begin my day of FDASL. I was listening to the amateur radio in my vehicle, and monitoring the county’s fire department dispatch. No ill tidings from that front.

I did notice a car off the road, into the ditch, but I figured that the county deputy already on the scene had things well in hand.

So, there I was, listening to the FM radio, and waiting for any alarming traffic on the HAM radio, when I saw this guy, no shit, skate his compact pickup truck completely across the 3 lanes of expressway traffic, having apparently originated from the on ramp. My guess was that he had entered the ramp at speed that was excessive for the conditions. (did I mention that it had snowed the preceding night? Well, it had. Likely had something to do with the other guy in the ditch.)

Anyhow, once he reached the median shoulder, he started to wifferdill his way along that shoulder, inching his way into the median’s ditch. He did manage to stay upright, so, that was nice…..

The thought crossed my mind, “coefficient of friction: words to live by!”

@@@Snippet The Second@@@

You may recall my tales of cat-herding (Farming? Wrangling?). In any event, one of the cats had a recurring conjunctivitis, such that our local vet voiced concern regarding the potential of a ruptured globe (eyeball breach, with vision-destroying loss of the fluid-vitreous and aqueous humor that is within the eyeball), versus a vision damaging occurrence of scars on the (supposed to be) clear portion of the eyeball.

So, we arranged an appointment with a veterinary ophthalmologist.

Of course, this doctor practiced in an office something like three counties over from our home. Of course, on the appointed day, it was a balmy 33 degrees (f), and could not decide to snow, rain, sleet, or what.

Fun times.

I learned on this trip, that driving Trixie T. Cat anywhere, was very much akin to driving your small, furry, outspoken, elderly, mother-in-law somewhere. I was the recipient of a running series of corrections, spoken (of course) in Cat, that likely would have sounded like “You’re driving too fast!”, “You’re driving too slow!”, “Why can’t you stay in one lane?” (this as I signaled, eased over into the -clear-adjacent lane, and in the course of doing so, ran over the ridge of slush built up between the lanes. So the truck jerked.), “Why aren’t we there yet?”, and the ever popular, “Where the hell are you taking me? I don’t want to go there! Let me out of this damned cat carrier!”

That is, would have sounded like that, if I spoke Cat.

As you might imagine, first off, back seat driving is oh, so very welcome at any time at all. Secondly, such corrections are even more welcome when the driving is, oh, gosh, I dunno, HAZARDOUS! Thirdly, let me take a moment to congratulate TDW-Mark II. She successfully suppressed her baseline impulses to shriek, gasp, or otherwise demonstrate her appreciation of her/our impending DOOM! Probably figured that the cat had that well covered.

Life in Da City! · Pains in my Fifth Point of Contact

Everybody Brings Sunshine Into My Life….

From time to time, I determine that an antibiotic will be helpful in resolving whatever ill is present in my patient. For example, folks with dental infections, and who are not allergic to beta lactam antibiotics (those related to penicillin), get amoxicillin. It is what our dental colleagues have directed me to employ as first line, and pretty nearly always gets the job done.

So, TINS, TIWFDASL, and my patient-du-jour had a dental infection. I presented my spiel, winding up with the observation that I would be sending over a prescription for amoxicillin.

This soul stated that they had received amoxicillin several years ago, and “it didn’t work”.

May I step back for a little bit of dental anatomy? Any surgeon (and, dentists are surgeons of a particular specialty) will tell you that antibiotics are wasted on any abscess, due to the fact that the overwhelming majority of the pathogens are afloat in the pus filling the abscess, and, since no abscess has any sort of circulatory system, any antibiotic will only make it to the periphery of the lesion, and not the the seat. Indeed, surgeons generally are of the opinion (an opinion probably developed during years of residency and 20,000 to 40,000 hours of patient contact) that the foundation of resolving an abscess is to drain the abscess. That will both greatly, greatly reduce the population of germs remaining to cause mischief, but also place those germs in close proximity to tissue that, indeed, has circulation, and therefore provide the antibiotic the ability to access, and damage, the germs.

GUM abscesses are potentially susceptible to intervention by clinicians such as I myself am. TOOTH abscesses, including dental pulp and/or dental root infections, are immune to my attentions.

Therefore, plausibly, this soul’s historic experience with amoxicillin could have been due to the infection remaining inaccessible to the antibiotic.

Back to my story. This child of God requested “something stronger” than amoxicillin.

Two competing thoughts sprang into my mind: First, amoxicillin is the drug of choice. Prescribing something else is akin to purchasing a full ton passenger van to transport your gravel, because “big vans are stronger!”, or something. Really, using the proper tool for the job makes so much more sense.

Secondly, there are several reasons why clinicians do not simply “prescribe something stronger”. One if them is NOT that we are all assholes, who want people to be/stay sick. Rather, for example, gentamicin is used all the time in ICUs for patients who are terribly sick. (wonder if that has anything to do with the reason that they are in ICU to begin with?) These folks get regular blood draws, to be sure that the concentration of drug in the blood is within certain bounds. Too little, and it is less effective than needed. Too much, and deafness and/or kidney failure can result, among other bad things.

So, for certain values of “stronger”, gentamicin is, indeed, “stronger”. On the other hand, deafness as a consequence of your long delayed dental care appears, to me, to be a risk out of proportion to the anticipated benefit. Particularly when I can anticipate the same benefit, with rare risk, from, gosh, er, um, oh, I dunno, AMOXICILLIN.

Back to my story, backing away, a little, from my rant-du-jour: I asked this soul what antibiotic had been beneficial, for past dental infections?

The answer, I swear to Crom, was, “I don’t know. You’re the doctor, don’t you know?”

Words. They fail me.

Duty · Gratitude · Having A Good Partner Is Very Important! · Sometimes You Get to Think That You Have Accomplished Something!

Telemedicine: Threat, or Menace?

One fine day, I was at work, FDASL, and received a text from my daughter, let’s call her Brenda. She related that her second child had developed what looked like pink eye, to Brenda’s assessment. She (Brenda) had contacted whoever, and that medical soul had video chatted/e-visited/virtually visited/some other bullshit with my grand daughter, and had prescribed an ophthalmic antibiotic.

Brenda was not altogether certain that this assessment was spot on, and wanted her clinician dad’s take on things.

As you may have surmised, MY take on non patient contact, not in the same room “visits”, is not filled with much enthusiasm. There is something to the gestalt of being in the physical presence of somebody, that provides you with clues that are neither evident, nor are they provided across a video screen of any sort. (Ever smell the fruity breath of diabetic ketoacidosis? Ever smell it over a phone?)

Placing that aside for a moment, I asked for some pix. (I am aware that this amounted to the very same thing I had just, 11 words ago, railed against. Wait for it.) My grandchild’s eye appeared red, and (uncommonly in pink eye), so did the tissue surrounding her eye.

I asked if this grandchild could move her gaze left and right, upwards and downwards, painlessly. Was there any change in her vision?

The response I received was that the vision in her affected eye was “blurry”, as well as “it hurts when she looks up”.

My response text, verbatim, was, “Who is going to see her in person, in the next half hour?”

Brenda took her child to our local urgent care, which clinician, to THIS clinician’s credit, is reported to have entered the room, taken one look at my grand daughter, and turned to her mother, and said “So, I’m not going to charge you for this visit. Do you know the way to Big City Referral Hospital? Good. Do not dawdle. Go directly there, now. Yes, I mean the emergency department. Thank you. Drive safely.”

THOSE folks examined her, CT’d her, and started an IV (a process that Grand Daughter did NOT approve of!), and IV antibiotics, and admitted her for several days. The CT had revealed a peri orbital cellulitis (mild, but, nonetheless…), which responded to the medication.

She is now home, sassy, and none the worse for the experience. Take home points: Brenda demonstrates many, many of the affirmative attributes of The Plaintiff: she is smart, decisive, has a finely calibrated and high functioning “shit don’t sound right” detector, and is a bulldog advocate for her children.

I loathe “telemedicine”.

Sometimes I am both blessed and lucky. This time, to the benefit of my grandchild.

Fun And Games Off Duty · Life in Da City! · Pre Planning Your Scene · Sometimes You Get to Think That You Have Accomplished Something!

THE PLAINTIFF AND THE HOUSE.

Long ago, and far, far away, I was sitting in a conference room with my attorney, The Plaintiff, as well as her attorney. We were discussing asset distribution. Her attorney announced that THEIR plan was that we sell the house, split the proceeds, and ride off into the sunset, separately.

Okay, that deserves some context. We had purchased that house something like 8 months prior to this conversation, it was in 2008 (remember those days? Housing values were plummeting like a drunken frat boy off a second floor porch), and we had obtained a “zero down” mortgage. I had kept an eye on housing values, and had noted that this house was worth less than considerably less than owed on the mortgage. We also had, between us, a camper trailer that had been paid off. I suggested, instead, that she take the house (simply so our boys would have their home, in a stable manner), and I would take the camper. I added that she could then, when she deemed it proper, she could sell that house, and keep all the proceeds. Alternately, as I observed, she could consider the market, and realize that the house was worth considerably less that what was owed. In that event, I would accept no responsibility for that shortfall. And, I’d take the camper.

Her attorney was aghast. “You cannot tell me that the house is worth as much as the camper!”

I said, “No, I am not telling you that the camper is worth as much as the house. In my appraisal the camper is worth considerably more than the house, but, it is about what your client wants, after all, isn’t it?”

To make a long story short(er), I kept the house, she got the camper, and no money changed hands in this matter.

cats · Fun And Games Off Duty

KITTEN TAILS, PART IV

As it develops, when you have a herd (or, is it “a flock of cats”? I am not sure…) of cats, when one develops conjunctivitis, well, EVERYBODY goes along for the ride. Therefore, should your Mark I, Mod Ø Stretcher Ape attempt to medicate the sick cats, well, THAT leaves a reservoir of untreated, and, it seems, soon-to-be-infected cats. Reminiscent of a circle jerk, of sorts.

So, TDW-Mark II came to the realization that, should sick call include all the cats, there would remain no susceptible population to serve as a next stop for the Train O’ Pink Eye that appeared to be making the rounds.

Loyal Readers likely have already recalled the “sick call” nature of such an adventure. She and I would corral a couple of kittens, medicate them, provide canned cat food as a treat, and then open the bathroom door, planning to hunt down, corral, and carry away to the bathroom, the next contestants. There, to medicate and treat (in both senses of the word) those cats, and then repeat until no unmedicated cats remained.

Well, we would open the door, and the most recent contestants would ease their way out, and, par miracle!, two more would saunter in, as if to say, “I say, old fellow: I had heard that there were treats to be had? Could you help a fellow out?”

With this as a backdrop, we had assumed that Reluctant Cat would be cool with his turn at antibiotic-ointment-in-the-cat’s-eyes. You all do remember how to spell “Assumed”, amirite?

Yep. Reluctant Cat abruptly forgot the entire “cooly saunter into the bathroom/clinic” thing, and decided that what I really, really needed, was a venotomy on my dominant wrist. (since he did not have either a IV catheter, nor thumbs with which to manipulate it, he couldn’t have been thinking that I needed an IV, anyway.)

BAD NEWS: I am on blood thinners.

GOOD NEWS: He really had a crappy angle on my radial vein. Plus, in a display of reflexes that I have not demonstrated since I was in my twenties, I snatched my hand away just prior to the letting of blood could really get into full swing. As it happened, I only sustained a couple of fairly superficial scratches, which stopped bleeding after, oh, maybe a half an hour or so.

As for Reluctant Cat, well, HE went into the bag, head exposed, got his med, got his treat, and got shown the (bathroom) door.

Duty · Having A Good Partner Is Very Important! · Pains in my Fifth Point of Contact

Partners. Or, Not.

So, TINS, TIWFDASL, and it was approaching the end of my shift. The other midlevel was a locum (think: rent-a-clinician), and since I was busy with my side, I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to her.

One of my patients was pretty sick. As in, “Where is my ambulance”, sick. I also had a couple of other folks, who had to wait while I dealt with Mr.-or-Mrs.-pretty-sick.

Once the ambulance had departed, I tended to my other patients, and noted that the floor staff appeared pretty, well, relaxed. I asked them, “Doesn’t Little Mary Sunshine have any patients left?”

They looked at me. “Uh, no. She beat feet out the door while you were in with your emergency. Oh, and one of her patients did not get their antibiotic. The pharmacy called, and would like you to fix that.”

I did a literal double take. “Say what?”

The MA repeated herself. There was still 10 minutes in the shift.

They tell me, several months later, that I got very, very quiet at that. Concerningly quiet.

Pains in my Fifth Point of Contact

Z-Pack! Arrgh!

Those of you who have suffered along, reading my scribblings (uh, I mean…) been frequent visitors to this blog, likely know that, in addition to spending years in The Sick People Business, I am, well, conservative. This works out both politically, as well as with regard to my life choices. I have heard that everybody is conservative about things that they know best. Firefighting is renowned with the deliberate pace of accepting new innovations, probably due to the fact that if the innovation tanks, firefighters (and civilians) die. The military once was very conservative, for similar reasons.

So, TINS, TIW, driving my happy, fuzzy, disease fighting ass home after another fun filled, exciting day of Beating Back The Scourge of Zithropenia (Azithromycin+/penia=Zithropenia. (n) The state or condition of having a pathologically low blood level of azithromycin. (fictional malady)). I was listening to a talk radio host, and this worthy declaimed that they “Know my own body. I get this same bronchitis every year about this time of year, and I always get the Z Pack!”.

Let’s pause, and “bookmark” that statement. There are three things that I want to address therein. Once I unclench my teeth, that is.

This soul continued: “So, I went to a doctor, just like last year, because I had this bronchitis, just like last year. I mentioned that I wanted the Z Pack, just like last year, because I got better after taking it. I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because he prescribed something else, which took longer, and didn’t work as well”.

Another bookmark, please. Generally, this commentator makes sense, and I agree with their perspectives. They typically make valid points, in my view, and their analysis of events makes sense: they appear generally internally consistent. HOWEVER, I need to contemplate whether there becomes a variety of what I will call a “reverse Halo effect”, for lack of the precise term. That means, if this commentator can so badly err in this regard, perhaps I ought to view their perspectives with greater skepticism.

Now, about those “bookmarks”. Let us begin with (1) “I know my body”. Let us agree, “know my my own body”, and “know whereof I speak in matters medical” is not a circle in the Venn diagram of facts. Generally, the soul with whom I am interacting (placing myself in this person’s clinician’s place), is not a physician of any stripe, commonly not an RN, and likely does not know the manner in which antibiotics (for azithromycin-The Z Pack-is an antibiotic, of the macrolide class thereof) function. In some regards, this is similar to presenting to your mechanic, and asserting, “I know my car, and I need a new framistan!”

Perhaps, should your mechanic pull the OBE codes he/she might have some insight into the, oh, I dunno, correct analysis of why your vehicle is making that funny noise, that, just maybe, you ought to listen to.

On that same topic, the imp in my head often suggests that, in response to that conversational gambit, that I ask, “Indeed? What is your opinion of the role your amygdala is playing in your illness?”, or, “Are you certain the the Z Pack will be strong enough? Shouldn’t you take imiprimine for your cough-worse-at-night, or sniffles?”

I rarely listen to the imp’s advice.

Secondly, “I get this same bronchitis every year around this time”. While I am by no means a microbiologist, nor do I play one on TV, and the last Holiday Inn Express that I stayed in was in 2016,

in my Nursing studies, and in my midlevel studies, I do not recall a single instance of our instructors informing us that microbes possessed awareness of the seasons, let alone calendars. My assessment, assuming that my examination does not provide contrary evidence, is that the seasonal nature of the malady likely reflects seasonal changes in the environment. Here, in The Un-Named Northern Fly Over State, that likely means, in the fall, that you finally became cold enough to turn on your furnace, and, generally, that means a forced air furnace. Said furnace has been dormant for 4-7 months, allowing all the dreck suspended in the air to settle out in your heating ducts, and, once you get chilly again, and the furnace is activated, which means the the blower is energized, air begins to move through your ductwork, and all that dreck, quiescent for lo, these many months, is aerosolized once again, and you again breathe it all in.

Since, in the interval, your mucosa has grown UNACCUSTOMED to these irritants, you, once again, have irritated sinuses, which swell (“my head is plugged” and/or “I cannot breathe….through my nose”), and, in the manner in which your mucous membranes respond to irritation, they pour out mucous. Since it takes a while for you immune system to again achieve equilibrium, the delay until you go to the clinic + the delay before you fill your prescription + the delay until you complete the course of azithromycin of which you speak so highly, roughly equals the time frame required for your immune system (read: mucous membranes) to adapt to the new, dust laden, environment your autumnal activation of your heating system elicits.

Rinse, repeat, for spring “bronchitis”, likely elicited by mold finally being unburied from the snow that we enjoy months at a time. Ibid, spring pollen release, similarly, summer lawn clippings, or whatever.

Finally, “I always get prescribed the Z-Pack” (implied is “and it always fixes me”.) Please contemplate the logical fallacy of “post hoc, ergo propter hoc” (“this follows that, therefore that caused this”). To illustrate, I purchased a new pickup truck in the summer of 2020. Therefore, absent my truck purchase, Mr. Biden would not presently be in The White House. Right? See above regarding seasonal irritants to your sinuses, and their effects, along with the timeline described two paragraphs above.

There is an additional factor, segueing into the next point, wherein azithromycin interacts with other medications (betcha they didn’t know THAT, eh?), as well as particular medical conditions (go internet search “black box warning”. I’ll wait here while you do so.) To translate the medicalese into english, “QT prolongation” refers to an alteration of the heart conduction system, which, occasionally, can produce alterations of the heart rhythm that can be lethal.

We generally consider that to be a bad thing.

So, these are prominent among the reasons that I am considered “the Z-Pack Nazi” by my co workers.

With reference to the assertion that “…he prescribed something else, which took longer and did not work as well”. Please refer to the timeline outlined above, consider the drug-drug interactions, as well as drug-medical history interactions cited above. Now consider the possibility that Doxycycline, over ten days, was every bit as effective as azithromycin (which is to say, not), and perhaps the speaker went to the clinic earlier in their course than historically.

All that is with absolutely no knowledge of this radio person’s medication list, allergy list, past medical history, review of systems at the time of the office visit, nor of the physical exam findings. Simply, it elicits teeth grinding, and reminiscences of actual patient encounters that I personally have had.

Thanks for riding along.