Three cheers for NR’s John Derbyshire. I was thrilled to read in his recent column that he avoids doctors — is, in fact, what he calls an “iatrophobe.” I’m one, too.
The root cause of my iatrophobia is simple bad timing. Back when I was healthy, going to the doctor was called going to the doctor, but now that I’m falling apart it’s called Health Care. It’s a little about health and a lot about caring, especially caring about insurance, and it works both ways. The lady who just became my ex-doctor practiced defensive medicine like nothing I have yet seen or read about. To make sure she could not be sued, she referred everything that moved to anything that billed. She kept urging me to see specialist after specialist, undergo treatment after treatment, test after test, therapy after therapy. When she noticed the age spots on my forearms she said they could be skin cancer. When I refused to go to the dermatologist she plucked from her referral list she abruptly changed the subject, saying she wanted to order another heart ultrasound even though I had just had one two weeks before in the hospital. I refused this as well.