A Visit To Dr. Sticks
He was about six feet two. Orange hair. Rectangular framed glasses. A kind of out of focus kinda guy. Didn't hate his job. Didn't love it. It was just what he did. He was my doctor.
He instructed me to get up on the... whattya call it. Bed? Bench? Paper covered examination table with cushion?
"Well, we might as well give you a physical. When's the last time you had one?"
"I've never had one, Doctor Sticks."
"Well then, we might as well give you one."
He vaguely rolled his hands about six inches in front of my heart, and he mumbled, "Exercise". Then he had me lay down on the examining table and asked me to roll up my shirt. He placed his index fingers on the left side of my abdomen and drummed. The same placement of fingers on my right side would have been directly over my liver but on my left side... ? I don't know. I didn't ask. He didn't tell.
Then he took those two fingers and placed them over his own right eye and drummed again. "Do you know what this is? By palpatating the eyes we can determine resistance. How pliable the lens and jelly of the eyes have become. We should find similar resistance all the way down your body from your eyes to your belly to your toes."
And that was it. No goodbyes, no explanations, no instructions. Not even a platitude about apples or laughter.
And that, I think, demonstrates the problem with specialists and our culture of specialization. Now, I suppose that if you reading this are a doctor or some other practioner of a specialized form of diagnostic medicine, then you probably know exactly what Dr. Sticks was talking about. I, however, am not a medecin. (I am a dreamer which isn't much of a specialty because everybody does it. I'm just better at it than most.)
I do not have the tools to decipher his ways, but why should I have to. It is my body and his observations and manipulations should be obvious to me. The true specialists - doctors, lawyers, clergymen - hold on to their secret ways to the detriment of communication, expression of true knowledge, and the benefit of us all.
He instructed me to get up on the... whattya call it. Bed? Bench? Paper covered examination table with cushion?
"Well, we might as well give you a physical. When's the last time you had one?"
"I've never had one, Doctor Sticks."
"Well then, we might as well give you one."
He vaguely rolled his hands about six inches in front of my heart, and he mumbled, "Exercise". Then he had me lay down on the examining table and asked me to roll up my shirt. He placed his index fingers on the left side of my abdomen and drummed. The same placement of fingers on my right side would have been directly over my liver but on my left side... ? I don't know. I didn't ask. He didn't tell.
Then he took those two fingers and placed them over his own right eye and drummed again. "Do you know what this is? By palpatating the eyes we can determine resistance. How pliable the lens and jelly of the eyes have become. We should find similar resistance all the way down your body from your eyes to your belly to your toes."
And that was it. No goodbyes, no explanations, no instructions. Not even a platitude about apples or laughter.
And that, I think, demonstrates the problem with specialists and our culture of specialization. Now, I suppose that if you reading this are a doctor or some other practioner of a specialized form of diagnostic medicine, then you probably know exactly what Dr. Sticks was talking about. I, however, am not a medecin. (I am a dreamer which isn't much of a specialty because everybody does it. I'm just better at it than most.)
I do not have the tools to decipher his ways, but why should I have to. It is my body and his observations and manipulations should be obvious to me. The true specialists - doctors, lawyers, clergymen - hold on to their secret ways to the detriment of communication, expression of true knowledge, and the benefit of us all.
posted by steve at 12:46 PM
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