Medical Advancements?Please?
I'm fascinated with the advancements of science in general but particularly so with the increase in our understanding of human physiology.
Medical science is fascinating to me given the complexity of the human creature.
At one point I aspired to a career in the medical sciences but settled into the role of a mere chemist instead.
I think it's mostly because I had a desire to experiment and I cannot imagine poking at a human just to see how they twitch being met with fanfare and adoration.
In fact, I'm pretty sure that's why there is malpractice insurance- to protect the doctors from the scientist in them just aching to emerge.
You can only contain so much pressure, you know.
Still, despite all the advancement in technique, all the pharmacopeia, all the technology, parts of the medical profession remain alarmingly barbaric.
I mean, honestly, we put men on the moon with little more than transistors, capacitors and vacuum tubes.
We launched those people into the vast unknown of space, sent those brave astronauts around the dark side of the moon, brought them through the fiery furnace of re-entry and had them walk away unscathed.
How is it then that the best way we've come up with to check a prostate is with ye olde digital exam? I wish I could say digital referred to numbers, circuits and electronics, but nay, it is the mighty gloved finger.
The snap of the glove yields an instantaneous pucker that could rip the top off of an aluminum can.
And why is it that it seems as though that one finger grows to the size of a wheel barrow handle immediately prior to said exam?Isn't there some sort of x-ray MRI laser device that can replace the finglonger?Is it really necessary to touch it?There?I've never seen a study done, but I'd put some money on the fact that that one exam sends more men into post-traumatic stress counseling than any divorce or circumstance could ever generate.
Hideous.
And while I'm delving into the dealings of mortifying humiliation, I don't know that much can compare to the mental battering of work being done on Man Central Station.
Yep, I refer to the Ginsu.
The snip.
Neuterization.
It's the thing that all men dread, but many face because the only thing worse is another round of diapers, crying, midnight feedings and teething.
I'm pretty sure it was invented by a woman as revenge.
When I had "it" done they kept asking "Are you OK?"I was proud of myself for offering a composed and coherent answer while under such duress.
"I've spent all my life protecting them and now you're having your way.
It's a little weird, that's all.
"They had no choice but to agree.
And why, for the love of all that is good and right, do they have to bring you in through the front door for you to announce to all people in the waiting room what is about to happen?Regardless of which of the aforementioned procedures is being referenced, there should be a way to pre-arrange the office visit over the phone and have the mortified patient come through a back entrance or something.
Anywhere else this would be called rape, but in this setting my insurance company and I pay out the...
well, you get the picture.
Speaking of which, why do you have to stop and sign insurance paperwork as you walk, bowlegged, out of the office all the while talking like Mickey Mouse on a helium high?Maybe I was just self-conscious, but I'm pretty sure I saw the receptionist smirk.
And I didn't even get a lollipop when I left.
Don't get me wrong- I've been through the military where all sense of shame, dignity and embarrassment are stripped, folded neatly into a six inch square and stored in a foot locker for the day of your discharge.
I was even on flight status where a Flight Surgeon's physical exam went places never before seen.
I'm no whiny, self-conscious wimp here, but c'mon, a little research into some more discretionary approaches would be much revered and to say appreciated would be a gross understatement.
I cannot help but wonder where we might be, if the works and discoveries of ancient greats like Galen the Roman physician had not been lost for hundreds of years.
Maybe we'd have a better way of handling that which lies internal, preferably by not handling it at all.
I know I haven't begun to touch the world that the women face and have only dealt with two items of personal experience.
I know there are many more.
It's all the more reason to pour money into researching alternate techniques.
Where can I make a donation to the cause?In the meantime, look out- I sense a bad moon rising.
Medical science is fascinating to me given the complexity of the human creature.
At one point I aspired to a career in the medical sciences but settled into the role of a mere chemist instead.
I think it's mostly because I had a desire to experiment and I cannot imagine poking at a human just to see how they twitch being met with fanfare and adoration.
In fact, I'm pretty sure that's why there is malpractice insurance- to protect the doctors from the scientist in them just aching to emerge.
You can only contain so much pressure, you know.
Still, despite all the advancement in technique, all the pharmacopeia, all the technology, parts of the medical profession remain alarmingly barbaric.
I mean, honestly, we put men on the moon with little more than transistors, capacitors and vacuum tubes.
We launched those people into the vast unknown of space, sent those brave astronauts around the dark side of the moon, brought them through the fiery furnace of re-entry and had them walk away unscathed.
How is it then that the best way we've come up with to check a prostate is with ye olde digital exam? I wish I could say digital referred to numbers, circuits and electronics, but nay, it is the mighty gloved finger.
The snap of the glove yields an instantaneous pucker that could rip the top off of an aluminum can.
And why is it that it seems as though that one finger grows to the size of a wheel barrow handle immediately prior to said exam?Isn't there some sort of x-ray MRI laser device that can replace the finglonger?Is it really necessary to touch it?There?I've never seen a study done, but I'd put some money on the fact that that one exam sends more men into post-traumatic stress counseling than any divorce or circumstance could ever generate.
Hideous.
And while I'm delving into the dealings of mortifying humiliation, I don't know that much can compare to the mental battering of work being done on Man Central Station.
Yep, I refer to the Ginsu.
The snip.
Neuterization.
It's the thing that all men dread, but many face because the only thing worse is another round of diapers, crying, midnight feedings and teething.
I'm pretty sure it was invented by a woman as revenge.
When I had "it" done they kept asking "Are you OK?"I was proud of myself for offering a composed and coherent answer while under such duress.
"I've spent all my life protecting them and now you're having your way.
It's a little weird, that's all.
"They had no choice but to agree.
And why, for the love of all that is good and right, do they have to bring you in through the front door for you to announce to all people in the waiting room what is about to happen?Regardless of which of the aforementioned procedures is being referenced, there should be a way to pre-arrange the office visit over the phone and have the mortified patient come through a back entrance or something.
Anywhere else this would be called rape, but in this setting my insurance company and I pay out the...
well, you get the picture.
Speaking of which, why do you have to stop and sign insurance paperwork as you walk, bowlegged, out of the office all the while talking like Mickey Mouse on a helium high?Maybe I was just self-conscious, but I'm pretty sure I saw the receptionist smirk.
And I didn't even get a lollipop when I left.
Don't get me wrong- I've been through the military where all sense of shame, dignity and embarrassment are stripped, folded neatly into a six inch square and stored in a foot locker for the day of your discharge.
I was even on flight status where a Flight Surgeon's physical exam went places never before seen.
I'm no whiny, self-conscious wimp here, but c'mon, a little research into some more discretionary approaches would be much revered and to say appreciated would be a gross understatement.
I cannot help but wonder where we might be, if the works and discoveries of ancient greats like Galen the Roman physician had not been lost for hundreds of years.
Maybe we'd have a better way of handling that which lies internal, preferably by not handling it at all.
I know I haven't begun to touch the world that the women face and have only dealt with two items of personal experience.
I know there are many more.
It's all the more reason to pour money into researching alternate techniques.
Where can I make a donation to the cause?In the meantime, look out- I sense a bad moon rising.
