There’s an old joke about men having to be on their deathbeds before they seek medical attention.
Guilty as charged.
OK, so I wasn’t quite on my deathbed, but on Wednesday evening last, my left hip had me lying with my back on the floor and my legs propped up over the seat of the couch.
My hip had been bothering me to varying degrees for a few weeks, but it was only this last bout of crippling pain that made me decide that, if I was still alive in the morning, I would hobble my way down the block to the Prince Rupert Regional Hospital.
I’m going to say it’s because I am a responsible citizen who doesn’t want to tie up the emergency department and waste taxpayers’ (of whom I am one) dollars just because I find myself in the unique position of not having a family physician in northwest B.C.
Did that come off as sarcastic? I hope so.
Kudos are in order. While busy Thursday morning, the ER at PRRH was an efficient operation and they had me questioned, poked, prodded, bled, X-rayed and on my way with a couple of scripts and a diagnosis within a few hours. And the staff members were all wonderful, as well as professional.
Does that get me moved up the wait list for a primary care provider? [Insert smiley-winky-faced emoji].
I’ve often said I am way healthier than I have any right to be given my history and the result of this visit was no exception. The critical bloodwork was fine.
The X-rays, maybe not so much, but still far from a worst-case scenario.
A little osteoarthritis-related inflammation, the product of decades of physical activity, a bit of a weight issue and the natural aging process.
Damn you, Mother Nature! It is a cruel fact of physiology that just when you are in full stride in so many aspects of life, your body starts falling apart.
Oh well, c’est la vie.
An interesting disconnect with the men not seeking medical attention theory is that even the slightest sniffle turns us into whiny babies.
Also guilty as charged, we just don’t whine to healthcare people.