I saw a doctor two years ago because I hadn’t taken a s#*! in two days and called my sports medicine doctor who referred me to a surgeon as I requested. I knew something was wrong, a fissure or hemorrhoids perhaps and I needed surgery stat!
I got an appointment in less than an hour, and immediately left work. His office looked like the hallway of The Shining where the two dead twins stood, and then lied, bathed in their own blood. I hadn’t met him, but google said he had taught at John’s Hopkins Medical School as an associate professor, he was from the East Coast, and when he walked in—Jewish, very Jewish. I like that. My grandmother, who was a doc herself always said to see Jewish or Indian doctors (perhaps because she’s Jewish?) because they study harder. Grandma could totally be prejudice, but I put my life in this man’s hands. Read MoreShare on Facebook