Growing up, going to the doctor meant something very serious was afoot -- a "major medical" event had occurred or was underway. Otherwise? No going to the doctor. Your mother, mostly, patched you up, got you through your sore throats or whatever else ailed you. No doctor.
As I grew into young womanhood, the shift had begun. Why, everyone …
Growing up, going to the doctor meant something very serious was afoot -- a "major medical" event had occurred or was underway. Otherwise? No going to the doctor. Your mother, mostly, patched you up, got you through your sore throats or whatever else ailed you. No doctor.
As I grew into young womanhood, the shift had begun. Why, everyone needed to see "their doctor" for a regular "check-up." Especially women. Why, you girls, you just don't know what could be going on with all those parts. You need a white coat to pick and poke and prod because, well, you never know.
Well. I knew. I knew that God had designed and intended me for health and healing. That certainly excluded any of that horrific poking that women endure as part of their annual "physicals." Are you freakin' kidding me??
I determined that there was something deeply wrong with the white coats and the whole medical "system." I. Stopped. Going. Though I'd only had a handful of encounters on my own by my mid-20's, I stopped going. One of my more astute observations leading to one of my best decisions. Ever.
I have visited doctors over the near-40 years since that decision, but I could probably count those on one hand. The last time was 2017 following a severe back injury. Went to ER. OK...so nothing broken? OK...See ya. I'll figure out how to mend on my own. Thanks! ;) (Someone -- a physician's assistant? -- came into the room with a needle. What's that? "It'll make you feel better." I didn't ask you that. I asked you what it was...a "muscle relaxant." Yeah, no thanks. She left, and I never saw her again. LOL. I'd rather lay there dying in pain than have someone just stick me with something.)
Part of my reasoning way back when was this sense I had that these doctors did not -- could not -- believe in God and act the way they did. That was also off-putting to me. I felt way too uncomfortable being in the same room with someone who believed I was a "disease factory" just waiting for them to discover it. (Jon alluded to this, as well, in this piece.) Just too weird for me. Gives me the creeps.
I think this cohort's behavior throughout the conjob-19 has vindicated us all. (Not that I was looking for it.)
Growing up, going to the doctor meant something very serious was afoot -- a "major medical" event had occurred or was underway. Otherwise? No going to the doctor. Your mother, mostly, patched you up, got you through your sore throats or whatever else ailed you. No doctor.
As I grew into young womanhood, the shift had begun. Why, everyone needed to see "their doctor" for a regular "check-up." Especially women. Why, you girls, you just don't know what could be going on with all those parts. You need a white coat to pick and poke and prod because, well, you never know.
Well. I knew. I knew that God had designed and intended me for health and healing. That certainly excluded any of that horrific poking that women endure as part of their annual "physicals." Are you freakin' kidding me??
I determined that there was something deeply wrong with the white coats and the whole medical "system." I. Stopped. Going. Though I'd only had a handful of encounters on my own by my mid-20's, I stopped going. One of my more astute observations leading to one of my best decisions. Ever.
It took me a little longer than you to stop going, but I did the same. They bullied me because I said no to their tests. Done with that crap.
I have visited doctors over the near-40 years since that decision, but I could probably count those on one hand. The last time was 2017 following a severe back injury. Went to ER. OK...so nothing broken? OK...See ya. I'll figure out how to mend on my own. Thanks! ;) (Someone -- a physician's assistant? -- came into the room with a needle. What's that? "It'll make you feel better." I didn't ask you that. I asked you what it was...a "muscle relaxant." Yeah, no thanks. She left, and I never saw her again. LOL. I'd rather lay there dying in pain than have someone just stick me with something.)
Part of my reasoning way back when was this sense I had that these doctors did not -- could not -- believe in God and act the way they did. That was also off-putting to me. I felt way too uncomfortable being in the same room with someone who believed I was a "disease factory" just waiting for them to discover it. (Jon alluded to this, as well, in this piece.) Just too weird for me. Gives me the creeps.
I think this cohort's behavior throughout the conjob-19 has vindicated us all. (Not that I was looking for it.)