You know what really frosts my flakes? Medical tests.
You don’t feel right, so you make an appointment. Three weeks later, you finally get in.
The doctor listens for five minutes, then orders a “few routine tests.”
A few? It feels like they’re testing everything but your patience.
So you go in for bloodwork, scans, poking and prodding. And a week later? “Inconclusive.”
Inconclusive? I could’ve told you that for free.
So now you need more tests. Different tests. More expensive tests. And those come back inconclusive, too.
Now you’re off to a specialist, who orders…wait for it…another round of tests. At this point, I’m starting to think the only thing they’ve diagnosed is my wallet.
Finally, after all that, you hear “Everything looks good.”
Oh, wonderful. “Well, except for one tiny thing.” Of course there is.
“Your potassium is 0.1 low.” 0.1? I sneeze harder than that. But, now it’s serious enough to “monitor.”
So here comes a prescription, a daily pill and a follow-up in 90 days.
By then, I either fixed myself, or forgot why I came in to begin with.
So let me get this straight. Four appointments, a mountain of tests, nothing wrong, except barely anything. But, now I’m on medication anyway.
Meanwhile, I feel better on my own. It’s a never-ending cycle.
I’m Grandpa Grumpy, and I’m way too old for this nonsense.