These days, it seems doctor’s visits are never ending. Here in Carpenter Country, a simple hangnail can turn into a malady requiring treatment for months.
That’s because the hangnail isn’t really a hangnail, it’s an infected thumbnail. What’s more, there’s a fungus growing under the infected thumbnail. The nail needs to be cut; the fungus treated. Come back next week. And the following week. And the week after that.
Three months later the doctor says, “Your insurance company is asking questions.”
“But my hangnail is still the same—you haven’t cured it.”
The reply: “I’ve done all I can. We’ll give it a rest. See you in six weeks.”
The other evening on one of the nightly news shows, the anchorperson spoke about a new cure for a disease with a long name. At the end of the 15-minute treatment, the surgeon said to the patient, “You can go home now. You’re cured.”
You’re cured. Such refreshing words.
Too bad most doctors have forgotten how to say them.