iatrogenic
[ahy-a-truh-jen-ik, ee-a-]
1. (of a medical disorder) caused by the diagnosis, manner, or treatment of a physician.
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Fred groaned and clutched his stomach. The pain was sharp and
persistent. He didn’t know much about
the human body, but he at least knew it wasn’t due to any ulcer or something
similar, like his doctor had claimed. It
was too wide spread, engulfing his entire stomach.
“Damn
this stomach.” Fred growled.
“Oh,
what’s wrong now?” Margret asked. “Please
don’t tell me your stomach hurts again.”
“Well,
what else would I be complaining about my stomach for?”
“I don’t
know, maybe you’re hungry?”
“Oh,
trust me, I know hungry, and this is not hungry.”
“Well,
why don’t you take one of those pills?”
“Those
things don’t do anything. I’d be better
off with some aspirin, and even that doesn’t help much.”
“Alright,
you big baby. I’ll call Dr. Mills.”
Margret went to pick up the phone, ready to call their doctor.
“No!”
Fred roared. “Not him. He’s the one who did this to me, I just know
it.”
Margaret
just looked at him oddly. They had been
going to Dr. Mills for years, and neither of them had any complaints about him.
“Oh
please, there’s no way that’s true.”
“It is,
I know it. My stomach wasn’t nearly this
bad before. I did everything he told me
to, and it’s only gotten worse. I don’t
what it was, but it was something he did.”
Margaret
sighed. There was little use in arguing with
the man. Once he got something in his
head, it was nearly impossible to sway him.
“Fine,
fine. One of the women from my office
knows a stomach specialist that she says is good. How about seeing him?”
“Yes,
fine, good. Anyone’s better than Mills.”
It took
Margaret a few minutes to find the correct number in the phone book, mainly
because she forgot the proper title for the particular type of doctor she was
looking for. When she finally did reach
the office, it was easy to set up an appointment. She even managed to get one snuck in for the
next day. Fred seemed as happy as he
could be, given the circumstances.
“So,
what makes you think Dr. Mills has anything to do with your stomach?” She
asked. “I mean, it hurt before, right?”
“Not
this bad. It only got worse after I saw
him. He must’ve given me the wrong pills
or something.”
“He
might’ve just made a mistake.”
“That’s
just as bad. Means he can’t do his job
right anymore.”
“Now
that’s just not true. He might be
getting on in years, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a good doctor anymore.”
“Tell
that to my stomach. He did something
wrong. I don’t know whether it was on
purpose or not, but he did. He’s lucky I
don’t sue him for malpractice is what he is.”
“I hope you’re joking about that.” Fred huffed and clutched his stomach. “We are not suing Dr. Mills for any reason.”
“I never said I was. I said he’s lucky that I’m not.”
“Well good.”
“I should though. Now that I think about it, maybe I should
start looking into how to do that.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I will. In fact, I’m going to go call—“
As he spoke, Fred went to stand
up. Before he got very far, he doubled
over and clutched his stomach, letting out pained groans as he did. He sat back down slowly.
“Maybe later.” He said through
clenched teeth.
Margaret was just glad something
had stopped him from doing something idiotic.
Once he recovered, she would have to make up some excuse to keep him
from doing going through with it though.
Her mind was already hard at work doing just that.
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Doctors are fine people, no doubt, but they're still people. Not all of them are perfect, and they can make mistakes just like anyone else. So if something bad happens and you think it's your doctor's fault, cut him/her some slack, okay?
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