Three Great Sins of the Medical Profession

Critics regularly denounce us for certain practices. These denunciations are more or less correct, but they miss the point.  Examples -

1. Doctors give treatments that relieve symptoms but don’t cure the underlying problem.

Right, but sometimes this is the best we can do. The cure for severe menstrual cramps is menopause, hysterectomy, or pregnancy. Drugs only relieve the pain, but patients appreciate it. No doctor cures migraine, asthma, emphysema, osteoporosis, or the flu, but we relieve a great deal of misery.

2. Doctors don’t pay much attention to diet, liquid intake, rest, and other natural treatments.

We don’t, and it’s the right thing to do.  Diet, rest, etc. help prevent disease but don’t do much once you get sick... A perfect example were tuberculosis sanitariums, the oldest government supported medical program. They began appearing in the nineteenth century. Patients received nutritious food and plenty of rest in a healthy, rural environment. They were discharged (sometime after years) when their TB became inactive. No one was cured, and many relapsed. When drugs appeared after 1945 sanitariums closed. Nowadays doctors encourage TB patients to adopt a healthy life-style, but they’ll get better if they don’t – provided they take their drugs.

3. Doctors spend too little time explaining how to relieve stress.

Perhaps....  Stress makes everything worse but doesn’t cause anything. Seeing a doctor for stress results from what I call the “medicalization of society” - the notion that life’s difficulties (a hateful job, unsatisfying sex life, shyness) represent a medical problem. There’s no harm in this; a good doctor can listen sympathetically and make sensible suggestions which require no medical training.

More Guests I Didn't Help

A travel insurer asked me to see nine sick hotel guests. My first thought was food poisoning, but their symptoms turned out to be coughing and sore throat.

I love multiple visits at the same hotel, but I wouldn’t love these. I visualized the scenario: a large group arrives for an expensive vacation where many fall ill, and in America you need a prescription for an antibiotic. Luckily, they tell themselves, we have travel insurance. The doctor will come and give us our Amoxicillin, and we’ll be fine.

My philosophy on antibiotics is that I prescribe them if they’ll help, and I don’t prescribe them if they won’t. This puts me at odds with doctors around the world not excluding the US.

When I see victims of a respiratory infections (fifteen percent of a family doctor’s business) I do my best. Almost all seem satisfied, but a few make it clear that I have failed them.

Luckily, there was a nearby walk-in clinic where these guests would get their antibiotics.

A Guest I Didn't Help

A flight attendant at the Airport Holiday Inn was suffering an allergy attack. She couldn’t fly because of the congestion, and her airline required a doctor’s exam and note. This is a common request which I fulfill regularly, but I couldn’t fulfill hers because she was American.

When a British Air, Virgin-Atlantic, Emirate, Singapore, or Cathay-Pacific crew member falls ill, the local supervisor calls a national housecall service who calls me, and the airline pays. US airlines never do this. Their employees are on their own in a strange city with no transportation and their American insurance which is deeply suspicious of housecalls. 

I occasionally make a charity visit to an American flight attendant too sick to leave the room but not sick enough for the paramedics. Mostly I refer them to an urgent care clinic.

Caring for Celebrities

Searching my housecall database (over 18,000 visits) for “celebrity” turns up 92 hits although that includes wives and children.

You recently read about my encounter with a famous person. I mentioned him by name because I was never his doctor, but I’m sure you don’t expect stories about celebrities I cared for. Unfortunately, literary agents do expect it. News that it’s forbidden has proven the kiss of death for my memoirs.

Most celebrities are nice, but over forty years I’ve cared plenty of misbehaving luminaries including several who died under dramatic circumstances. Agents have assured me that “you can’t libel the dead.” This turns out to be a legal fact, but the dead’s loved ones have been known to sue after reading unflattering remarks.

Why You Get Sick, Part 2

You do get sick because:

        1.  No one is perfect.  The healthiest human is full of clumsy design defects.  Our back muscles are too weak, so even normal activity can injure them.  Human veins are too flabby to resist a normal blood pressure; that’s why we get hemorrhoids and varicose veins.  Roughage may be good for you, but humans can’t digest some carbohydrates.  That’s why a high fiber diet causes gas.

        2.  Your “resistance” is too strong.  Don’t blame a fever on that infection you caught.  Your body itself generates extra heat whenever an invader is present.  Some experts claim fever is good for you, but the evidence is thin.

        The human immune system is too strong for its own good - and trigger happy!  Allergies occur when it tries to defend you against an innocent pollen, drug, or food.  Even worse, it may decide one of your own organs is the enemy.  Thyroiditis, the most common cause of thyroid deficiency, is an “autoimmune” disease.  An overactive immune system may also assault the heart (rheumatic fever), liver (autoimmune hepatitis), kidney (glomerulonephritis), joints (rheumatoid arthritis), or skin (eczema, hives).

        3.  Nature plays no favorites.  It assumes germs and viruses have as much right to exist as you.  Catching the flu, for example, is not a sign of weakness.  Most healthy people exposed to a new flu virus get sick.  Then they recover, but this is not a defeat for the virus.  Multiplying during the illness, many escape into the air to infect others.  The flu virus normally infects a victim for a week or so, then moves on.  That’s the role it plays in nature.  Your role is to get the flu now and then.

        Medical science works to give humans an advantage in this competition, and we’ve done pretty well.  But nature is impartial.

Why You Get Sick

When I walk into a hotel room, guests often tell me why they fell ill. They also blame themselves. In both cases they’re usually wrong.

You don’t get sick because:

        1.  Your “resistance” is low.  You got that cold because another person gave it to you.  If it’s your fifth cold of the year, this is a sign of what we in the medical profession call bad luck.  It’s not a defect in your immune system.  People with poor resistance suffer terrible diseases.  There is no immune defect that gives victims too many minor infections.

        2.  Your diet is missing something.  Americans suffer plenty of nutrition-related ailments, but most result from too much rather than too little of some element.  Examples are obesity, high blood pressure, coronary artery disease, and tooth decay.

        3.  You don’t get enough (sleep, exercise, water, leisure).  Researchers have proved beyond a doubt that lack of sleep makes you sleepy.  Subjects kept awake for days become very drowsy.  They don’t get sick.  Exercise improves your sense of well-being and strengthens muscle and bone, and it probably slows osteoporosis.  Vigorous, long-term activity may protect against coronary artery disease and prolong life.  Among younger people, sloth is not responsible for any disease.  Drinking x glasses of water a day is a harmless folk remedy. Doctors often suggest it to prevent bladder infections, but that’s common sense (i.e. it sounds good, but there’s no evidence that it works).   

The Time I Didn't Care for Woody Allen

“Woody Allen needs a doctor. How quickly can you get here?” The caller was the concierge from the J.W. Marriott.

                                                                                                                 

“Ten minutes,” I replied. The J.W. Marriott was in Century City, near Beverly Hills, a five minute drive.

“I don’t know….” She seemed doubtful. “I guess you should come.”

That sounded strange. How many doctors would appear at your door that quickly…? I threw on my suit and raced to my car. Turning into the hotel entrance drive, I encountered a sight that made my heart sink: a paramedic ambulance.

                                                                                                                 

“We couldn’t wait,” the concierge called out as I hurried past. There was still a chance. Most 911 calls are not emergencies. Long ago, paramedics declined to transport anyone who didn’t seem seriously ill. Sadly, they were burned in several cases when someone died after they left. Thereafter, their refusal rate plummeted, but I never lost hope.

Leaving the elevator, I headed for the inevitable crowd. As I approached, it parted providing a fleeting glimpse of Woody Allen rolling past on a gurney. I returned home, disappointed and unpaid.

                                                                                                                 

My experience with movie stars is that their screen personality owes much to reality, so I theorized that he had suffered an anxiety attack. Agitated guests make hotel employees nervous, so they’re quick to call paramedics, but this is overkill. I have a soothing manner, white hair, and a white beard (less white when I saw Woody Allen in 1993). Once I arrive and settle into a chair, I rarely fail to calm a panicky guest. Phoned in the middle of the night, I do the same without getting out of bed. Woody Allen should have waited for me.