My grandmom's sister had her clinic at home. It was this two-room outhouse with the bare minimum - a bed, medical supplies, some miscellaneous equipment ... like I said, the bare minimum. I don't really know how much she used the clinic. She worked in the hospital for the most part, but I presume she had a lot of patients visiting her at home as well.

The things that fascinated me most in her clinic were the stethoscope, the BP monitor, the weighing scale, and the old-style typewriter. Every time I visited her place, I would check my weight, feel my heartbeat (unsuccessfully), and then type out a complicated diagnosis for myself (mostly about not finding my heartbeat). I used to think the prescriptions doctors gave out were rather cold and impersonal. If a person needs poetic assurance about their life, it makes most sense to give it to them when they are ill and scared, than at any other time and by any other person who is not a doctor. I had all kinds of ideas on what kind of poetic assurance would make me feel better. For the most part, because my family is full of doctors, I didn't need to assure myself of getting better. My prescriptions came with the warmest hugs and I knew I would get well soon.

It's nice to have doctors at home, except when you want to be pampered (beyond the warm hug that is). I remember my friends' parents making them the nicest comfort food and indulging them with every attention (short of singing them a lullaby) throughout the period of their sickness (usually mild fever). It was as if their expressions of tenderness would nurse their kids back more than the doctors ever could. My family on the other hand, refrained from the melodrama but surrounded me with more doctors than I needed (including medical intern cousins showing off their knowledge and discussing the prognosis in unnecessary, complicated detail). Moreover, what was especially irksome was being used as a guinea pig for all the "sample" medicines that came their way. At my uncle's place where I lived for two years, I wished sometimes when I had a fever that he would give me a crocin (by mistake), instead of some nonproprieteric paracetamol tablet he wanted to try on me. Sometimes, these medicines came in boxes that didn't even have proper labels on them, which was scary. If my uncle and aunt (who too is a doctor) weren't related to me, I'd be sure as eggs is eggs that they were hellbent on dispatching me once and for all.

I don't quite remember having to go to a non-family doctor for medical treatment... except for my dentists, who too were either family friends or my cousins' bosses. I've had quite a few dentists who've treated me over the years and they've all ended in disaster. I have a fairly normal oral hygiene and am part of the statistical majority, which means I have more fillings than I have teeth. But, the reason it was disastrous had nothing to do with my oral hygiene. Every time, I warmed up to a dentist, he either got transferred, had to retire after a serious medical condition, or died of natural causes or accidents. There was one young dentist (my uncle's close friend) who lived next door. He stayed with me for the longest period, which is three years... until I moved out of the city! Now, I refrain from going to a dentist unless absolutely necessary... which is to say when my life and well-being is more important to me than theirs! Still, I couldn't be entirely wrong if I said dental treatments were bad both for me teeth and my dentists? My teeth are still rotten, terrible!

Have you ever noticed how sometimes you feel sick as a dog, until you drive to the doctor? ... and then all of the sudden the symptoms vanish and you feel like a goofball wasting their time? I hate when that happens. It doesn't help that my mom's side of the family is full of hypochondriacs (very unlike my dad's side). I have an uncle who drinks only bottled water even when he is at home for fear of getting sick from some incurable water disease! He was a police officer having nothing to do with the medical field, but his study has medical books of every description. He even authored a few books on health and medicine (I don't know how popular they are... but that's besides the point).

My brother and I inherited some of this hypochondria from my mom's side. I wake myself up in the night at least a few times just to make sure that I am not dead. Interestingly enough, I tolerate a lot of pain and avoid having to go to the doctor if the injury doesn't have to do with my respiratory system. For instance, I didn't go to the eye doctor for over a year until it became dangerous to drive without a new pair of glasses! (My myopia increased from -3.5 to -5 during this time) On the other hand, the minute my nose gets blocked, I rush to the doctor to make sure my lungs are getting enough oxygen. Last night, I was hyperventilating because my nose got cleared and I could breathe more easily than I ever have! This should have been good news, but I thought my lungs may not be able to handle the extra air supply all of a sudden.

My hypochondria is always logical or consistent. For instance I enjoy some kinds of outdoor activities that one would think would trigger my asthmatic symptoms! But, every time Tapi gets really ill, I start hyperventilating out of fear that should something happen to me that is life threatening, he might not be able to drive me to the doctor. Then the fear manifests itself with physical symptoms like the chest getting tighter, the heart beating faster, my breathing getting weird and before you know it, I have a full blown panic attack for a few minutes until I reason it out to myself or Tapi assures me that he can drive me to the doctor! Even now, when he gives me a tablet, I check the expiry date, the dosage, and make sure he opens the pill in front of me (or I open it) for fear that he may be (unknowingly) poisoning me! (I hope my mother-in-law isn't reading this!)

Did you know that doctors google their patients all the time? I wonder what my doctor(s) here, at home and everywhere think of my post!