The Doctor, the Dentist, and the Dermatologist
So this disgustingly healthy seventy-year old guy goes to the doctor and says “Doc! I want you to keep me alive for another twenty years”. Doctor says “OK”, thumps him on the back, on the chest, hammers his knees, stares into his eyes, and does things that I’m not going to write about here, then says “I’m sending you off to see a dermatologist. In the meantime, take Crestor (statins) to reduce your cholesterol, baby aspirin (81 mg), and start taking Vitamin-D supplements”.
Disgustingly Healthy Seventy-Year Old Guy protests “But Doctor, I’m disgustingly healthy. Why should I start taking three pills a day”.
Doctor looks him in the eye, says “You are seventy and you live in Toronto and you want another twenty years.
Guy acquiesces and heads off to Shoppers Drug Mart with a full wallet.
The next week, Tuesday morning at eight-thirty, stabbing, piercing, immobilizing pain in the right lower molar area. Disgustingly Healthy Seventy-Year Old Guy streaks down Yonge Street to nearest dentist. “How are you?” and he pours out a litany of woes. They strap him in a chair and inject him (at his request) with three or four litres of local anesthetic, and when his mouth is too numb to reply to “How do you feel?”, dentist begins to wrestle a tooth out.
There is wrenching and twisting, but instead of “There we go!” I hear “SNAP!” (or it might have been “CRACK!”)
“Let’s go to the other room” he says to Kerri, and she leads me down to the end of the corridor and, no kidding, says “They won’t hear your screams from here, in the reception area”.
The two of them tag-team me, and the tooth comes out in several bits and pieces, using a rotary saw, pliers, head-locks and arm-locks and all. It got quite personal with the lovely dental assistant at one stage, I can tell you.
When it is done there is a prescription for antibiotics and another one for narcotics, but luckily the Disgustingly Healthy Seventy-Year Old Guy didn’t bring photo-id with him, so he weasels out of the Tylenol-3 and just does the antibiotics. Four tablet bottles lined up on the bedside table.
This for a guy whose only pill bottles contain spare nuts, screws, washers and bolts .
Dentist gives him a sheet which advises a diet of “scambled eggs and ice-cream”. Yes, Scambled! And ice-cream, as in cholesterol. Disgustingly Healthy Seventy-Year Old Guy dashes into Dominion supermarket and blows a Dozen Dollars on three two-litre bricks of Chapman’s ice-cream. After all, when it’s the health of your gums and teeth, money is no object, right?
So this morning Disgustingly Healthy Seventy-Year Old Guy wanders into the office of Dermat the Ologist who says there is nothing wrong with the old skin, but to stay out of the sun and use sun-screen.
Disgustingly Healthy Seventy-Year Old Guy ponders this.
Why pop Vitamin-D supplements AND stay out of the sun?
Goes home, pops a statin and settles down with a bowl of Creamy Chocolate Mint from Chapman’s ... Cheese Omelette for supper tonight!