A visit to the doctor

I went to the physician this morning to have her look over my knee, which has been giving me terrible pain and the ocassional scary moment. My last doctor, Molly, has since moved home to Oregon so I don't have access to her. Instead, they gave me to a new woman, a tall, thin woman who reminded me a bit of Ann Coulter.

I had a few complaints. My knee, primarily. My general morning dragginess despite reasonable sleep patterns and practices, and my allergies have gotten worse recently.

I'm not sure I like the new doc. She recommended a battery of tests, including one for low testosterone (moi? Well, I suppose anything's possible), said that I probably hurt the knee while hiking and vigorously resisted my suggestion of an osteopath. "See if it still bothers you six months from now." She also resisted my suggestion of modafinil for the dragginess. In all, she basically went with a script and didn't really talk to the patient all that much, other than to confirm her decision of the most conservative course possible.

Molly would have treated me like an adult, talked seriously about the ups and downs of modafinil, then said I was an adult and could make my own decisions, and written the prescription anyway. She would also have forwarded my request for an osteopath, dammit.

*Sigh.* I hate doctor shopping.