Doctor Jargon

I don’t think doctors should be allowed to say the word “sting”. It’s so vague. In the old days, they would just lie to you and say it’s not going to hurt a bit. Then they’d give you a lollipop afterwards so you couldn’t warn everybody in the waiting room that the doctor’s a rotten liar. Somehow we wised up to them and our lollipop bribes were no longer sufficient. Desperate to maintain their clientele, doctors invented the word “sting”.

Sting is very vague when it comes to denoting a quantity of pain. So being told that something is going to “sting” a little doesn’t really help me at all. In fact, it makes matters worse. Now I know it could be mildly irritating OR hurt so badly that it feels like somebody just grabbed my left nostril and pulled it up over my head so they could start plucking out my nosehairs one at a time. The anticipation heightens the blow.

Then the doctor takes approximately FOREVER in getting whatever it is ready before initiating the “stinging” process. It’s like he wants you to keep vividly picturing the endless similes for this amount of pain. Finally, he’s ready to do whatever it is that “stings” and by now you’re covered in sweat and ready to vomit and/or pass out.

I would love to see a customer survey of how much pain was felt on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being minimal and 10 being, “Holy Sweet Goat’s Milk I Was Not Anticipating This Much Pain And If I Had Only Known You Can Bet I Would Have Been At Least Seventeen Countries Away By Now In A Desperate Attempt To Get Away From This Sadistic Doctor!”

The only problem with that method of letting a patient know what they’re really about to face is that there are patients like me. I would be overcome with a macho zeal to rank it lower than the average. So I’d see a 7, for instance, as the average. And I’d pretend to be all calm and tough. And during the procedure my toenails would be curling but I wouldn’t budge, trying to convince the doctor that I am an excellent candidate to be captured and tortured by an enemy because I would never reveal anything.

Once on my feet again, they would give me the survey and I would say, “Boy, I thought this was supposed to be a 7. I’d say it was more of a…” And then I would face a moment of truth and the doctor, nurse, and receptionist would all be giving me their undivided attention, eager to find out how manly I am.

“2.”

Back at my car, after having received a standing ovation for my manliness, I would vomit and then pass out.

As an add-on to yesterday's post, I discovered something wonderful and amazing in doing a tiny bit of research for a "Today In History" segment. Guess what happened on June 5, 1829. One of the Royal Navy's ships captured an armored slave ship off the coast of Cuba. The name of the Royal Navy vessel? HMS Pickle. And guess what else? This was the 3rd ship in the Royal Navy that was named the HMS Pickle. And there were FIVE more after it!!!

Pictures:
Doctor with Medium-Sized Needle
Running Away
Aircraft Carrier
Pickle