How to Get the Right Diagnosis by Randolph H. Pherson

Author:Randolph H. Pherson [Pherson, Randolph H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642501773
Publisher: Mango Media
Published: 2019-11-19T14:27:42+00:00

Brian suffered from a similar condition but solved it on his own.

For several years, I went to many doctors to complain about big, swollen “knots” on my finger joints. The doctors gave me a long list of medicines to take, none of which helped. They just skipped the diagnosis stage, moving right to treatment. The pain got so bad that I gave up playing string instruments, which made me was incredibly sad. When I fell seriously ill after a meal at a Thai restaurant and later, after snacking on a large bag of peanuts on a boat, I realized I was severely allergic to peanut products. I was sixty years old, had never been diagnosed with an allergy, and had been eating peanuts all my life. I gave up peanuts and now I am happily playing all the string instruments that brought me so much joy. I know now when I have been exposed to peanuts or peanut oil because my fingers hurt the next day.

The Failure to Diagnose

Let’s run some tests and treat you for what most likely caused the problem. If you get better, it really does not matter what caused it.

Most doctors in the American medical system are paid little to nothing to diagnose your condition. The primary revenue generators in the system are more tangible activities such as office visits, tests, prescriptions, and hospitalizations. A billing code could be set up for diagnosis, but how would an insurance company know if the time billed thinking about your case was being spent wisely? Should doctors be required to log their time spent researching articles and books, or placing phone calls to colleagues seeking consult, or time spent on their own deliberating your ailment? What if the doctor merely sat down and thought long and hard about your problem?

Perspective: What if the Obvious Diagnosis Is Wrong?

The pediatric nurse said, “It’s only a virus, get over it.” But George almost died.

I flew to Washington, DC, for two weeks with my nine-month-old baby to help take care of my mother who was recovering from surgery. I had a happy, energetic baby, but he was becoming more irritable. After a couple days, I noticed he was more lethargic and cried more than usual. He seemed to be peeing more as well and would reach out immediately to grab his bottle when it was feeding time. I started giving him more formula and some apple juice to drink, but he seemed to want more and more.

We were lucky that a pediatrician lived just down the street. She agreed to stop by the house to look at him. After a short visit, she suggested I bring him in for an examination the next morning. I did, and the doctor said it was probably a flu virus. She told me to take him home and let him work his way through it.

Later that day, my baby became even more irritable; he was crying constantly and could not be soothed. I gave him many bottles, and his diapers were totally soaked through when I changed them.

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