Saturday, March 04, 2006
False Positives
What the hell is a false positive and is the opposite a valid negative? Once after a physical I was asked to return for another blood test because my billiruben count was high although my spell checker prefers Bill Ruben.
My doctor, a woman internist, assuaged my fears, which actually felt pretty good, by saying that often when blood work is sent off to the Lab (as in Retriever) it may yield false positives and I said , ”Good because everything I read about Mr. Bill Ruben in an elevated condition translates into big trouble for me.”
I call it Marcus Welby Syndrome. The was one of the first primetime doctor programs starring Robert Young as Dr. Welby and James Brolin as his gay lover, or assistant, possibly male nurse, I can’t remember.
The program would start with a couple of losers—say bowling or out playing golf-one of the guys would cough or complain his shoulder was giving him trouble-that would always be followed by “You had better go see Dr. Welby” and by the end of the 30 minute program the sorry son of a bitch would be dead.
That created a nation of hypochondriacs with black and white televisions which aren’t as bad as “hyperchondriacs” who will drive you nuts in the waiting room. ‘Can he see me now, can he, I’m dying here!”
I just read a medical article—my mother was a nurse which is why I’m only attracted to pornography where the players are slightly deformed with black tape over their eyes-Those green hard backed nursing books-that said the PSA test and digital rectal (band name?) examine yield too many false positives which often lead to biopsies that produce false negatives that the sorry patient construes as a valid negative so he just relaxes and goes out to dinner not even realizing that his sexual dysfunction and incontinence are early warning signs that the cancer slowly growing in his almond shaped gland will not be stopped by crab cakes and vodka martinis.
I think I may write a “Morning Medical Report” for awhile because somehow a satirical dissecting of modern medicine is very therapeutic because sure as hell your doctor doesn’t have a sense of humor when you’re looking at him.
‘Honey you should have seen that man’s left testicle it was the size of a gratefruit.
” Most people pronounce it grapefruit. What causes that?”
“It’s a vascular vans deferens reverse osmosis homeostatic imbalance brought of by strenuous lifting or sensuous squeezing.”
“Are we talking dirty now? Didn’t I tell you not to wear your stethoscope at the dinner table? This isn’t Wawa. There’s no one here to impress. And get that gross ear light thing off the napkin.”
Peace
Dr. Freddogg
My doctor, a woman internist, assuaged my fears, which actually felt pretty good, by saying that often when blood work is sent off to the Lab (as in Retriever) it may yield false positives and I said , ”Good because everything I read about Mr. Bill Ruben in an elevated condition translates into big trouble for me.”
I call it Marcus Welby Syndrome. The was one of the first primetime doctor programs starring Robert Young as Dr. Welby and James Brolin as his gay lover, or assistant, possibly male nurse, I can’t remember.
The program would start with a couple of losers—say bowling or out playing golf-one of the guys would cough or complain his shoulder was giving him trouble-that would always be followed by “You had better go see Dr. Welby” and by the end of the 30 minute program the sorry son of a bitch would be dead.
That created a nation of hypochondriacs with black and white televisions which aren’t as bad as “hyperchondriacs” who will drive you nuts in the waiting room. ‘Can he see me now, can he, I’m dying here!”
I just read a medical article—my mother was a nurse which is why I’m only attracted to pornography where the players are slightly deformed with black tape over their eyes-Those green hard backed nursing books-that said the PSA test and digital rectal (band name?) examine yield too many false positives which often lead to biopsies that produce false negatives that the sorry patient construes as a valid negative so he just relaxes and goes out to dinner not even realizing that his sexual dysfunction and incontinence are early warning signs that the cancer slowly growing in his almond shaped gland will not be stopped by crab cakes and vodka martinis.
I think I may write a “Morning Medical Report” for awhile because somehow a satirical dissecting of modern medicine is very therapeutic because sure as hell your doctor doesn’t have a sense of humor when you’re looking at him.
‘Honey you should have seen that man’s left testicle it was the size of a gratefruit.
” Most people pronounce it grapefruit. What causes that?”
“It’s a vascular vans deferens reverse osmosis homeostatic imbalance brought of by strenuous lifting or sensuous squeezing.”
“Are we talking dirty now? Didn’t I tell you not to wear your stethoscope at the dinner table? This isn’t Wawa. There’s no one here to impress. And get that gross ear light thing off the napkin.”
Peace
Dr. Freddogg
