“If you like your doctor, you can keep your doctor” but in this day and age you’d be better served just being your doctor. Learn as much as you can, through reading and experimentation, about your own health. Follow the directions on the bottles and don’t take anyone else’s stuff, unless you’re sure it’s going to work and save you money.
If it’s one of those drugs for sex addicts, handle with care. Your low libido may become low blood pressure resulting in very poor performance indeed. Could there be anything worse when, in the throes of passion, you have to excuse yourself in order to run a few laps around the bed to raise the old blood pressure?
We all want to live to be as old as we can with some semblance of memory intact. Getting there may require the braver of us to become doctors and recommend for ourselves preventative programs involving physical exams, visits to the dermatologist on a regular basis, and a regular prayer regimen, praying that several unwanted genes are not present in our DNA.
Being your own doctor can be exciting because it means you get to be the decider when it comes to termination of treatment, what’s salvageable and what’s not, and when to call the coroner. I had two health evaluations recently and they both told me I was “as healthy as a 40 year old.” And they were smiling when they said it. Well, neither asked me to bend over and touch my toes, which I haven’t been able to do in about five years. Deep knee bends are out of the question and my nose runs more than it used to, not to mention, I’m missing a tooth. Since I never worked in a coal mine, I have to believe that age is a factor.
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Still, a couple of my doctors seem to think I’m going to live another 50 years or so, and there’s a prescription out there to ensure everything from skin to bowels functions “in the pink.” I suppose my next 50 years will be lucrative for all concerned as there has to be something monetary in it for me as the world’s oldest man.
Here’s an example of a doctor who appears to have my best interest at heart. I gave up on hair years ago, but the skin doctor, who I see regarding my skin but feel skinned once in a while when leaving, in an effort to preserve what no longer matters, is insisting I put this cream on the top of my head to make it “look better.” The way I’m scratching, my wife thinks I have fleas, but I assure her, judging by what’s left on the sides, there can’t be a place to hide on top. Plus, I haven’t seen the top in years so I must assume Dr. Derma knows of what she speaks.
When I pulled through the pharmacy drive- through, designed to expedite the exchange of money for drugs, the pharmacist made a point of leaning out of the window to say, “Whatever you do, make sure you don’t touch yourself, “down there” with this stuff on your hands.” I must admit, before hearing that, nuclear war and/or famine were one and two on my list of things to worry about. Now they’re two and three, and I’ve got chapped hands from washing because the ol’ prostate insists on me going and going and going. I can’t be sure if I’ve scratched my head or not between trips.
There’s a page full of warnings on the tube but who in their right mind would put this stuff in their mouth? The drug is designed to make your skin burn, dry up, swell and be irritated so that’s where the experimentation comes in. If any of those things bothers me, I’m supposed to lock myself in a cage and call my doctor. Maybe I’ll just text myself. I would divulge the name of this drug but some nut job out there is bound to use it for “recreational purposes.”
The previous information was intended as entertainment only, and based on actual experiences of the writer, who is not to be taken seriously. Don’t do as I do — or say.
Sonny Harmon is a professor emeritus at Georgia Military College. Visit his blog at http://sharmon09.blogspot.com.