Creative Medicine ............

A California truck driver pulled into the Blue Beacon Truck Wash in central Pennsylvania and spotted an advertisement for low-cost health exams for truckers. Needing one for his commercial driver's license, he called the number on the sign and was picked up by a woman in an old Ford Tempo. She drove him to her town house, where she performed the $65 physical, had him provide a urine sample and faxed the required forms to the California Department of Transportation.

It all seemed a bit odd to trucker Todd Wakefield, whose suspicions were heightened when California authorities told him about irregularities in the paperwork. After some clever sleuthing of his own, Wakefield turned his findings over to Pennsylvania State Police — who say they uncovered a scam that snagged at least 16 commercial drivers they know about, and probably more they don't.

Police were looking for more possible victims Tuesday after charging Joann Wingate, a 56-year-old chiropractor from Carlisle whose license was suspended, with swiping the identity of a psychiatrist with the same last name to perform bogus exams on commercial truck drivers who needed them to maintain their licenses. Wingate was charged Friday, posted $10,000 bail and was released Monday from Cumberland County Prison. She faces a preliminary hearing July 16 on charges of forgery, identity theft, impersonation, fraud and related offenses.

The phone number that state police said she used to advertise was still in service Tuesday. It answered with a recorded message that promoted services ranging from physical exams for truckers to drug testing for bath salts, oxycodone and other substances. The recording offered a "free five-minute shuttle from all Carlisle truck stops," and gave another number to call for 24-hour service. A woman who answered the phone at that number identified herself as Wingate but declined to comment.

State records show that Wingate's chiropractic license was suspended indefinitely in the fall after regulators found she had been offering trucker physicals at least since 2009. It wasn't clear Tuesday whether regulators made a criminal referral to police as a result of their investigation, and a spokesman for the Pennsylvania Department of State declined to comment.

Wingate continued to advertise after her suspension and, since Jan. 1, performed physicals on 16 drivers licensed in Pennsylvania, police said. She examined Wakefield, the California trucker, on June 1. After talking to authorities in that state and researching Wingate on the Internet, Wakefield concluded she wasn't who she seemed to be, police said. The trucker contacted the ersatz physician the day after his exam, and she agreed to refund his money.

While meeting with her, Wakefield managed to snap a picture of her medical examiner's certificate. He later shared it with state police, who noted it bore the license number of a psychiatrist from the Philadelphia area.

The psychiatrist told police she didn't perform physicals and had never been to Carlisle, a town about 20 miles from the state capital of Harrisburg. State police searched Wingate's home last week and said they found "a large quantity of medical documents and forms related to DOT physicals," as well as signs and brochures. They also found a small quantity of marijuana and a marijuana pipe, court documents said.

State police said that truckers who believe they were victimized should contact them.

He saw it coming ..... way back then.

My Dad, the Doctor, predicted this, and much more that is happening to the entire field of medicine now, back in 1958. He was proud to have been a physician, but not proud what medicine had degenerated to, and that was many years ago. He predicted all of this in a speech to the Montgomery County Medical Society as he was ending his term as President of the Society. 

A majority of physicians see a somewhat bleak future for medicine, pointing to eroding independence and shrinking income.

According to a survey from the Deloitte Center for Health Solutions of more than 600 doctors, six in 10 physicians said they expect many of their colleagues to retire earlier than planned in the next 1 to 3 years.

That perception cuts across age, gender and specialty.

Another 55 percent of doctors surveyed believe many of their colleagues will cut back on their hours because of the way medicine is changing, although the survey didn't delineate on how it was changing.

Seventy-five percent believe the best and brightest may not consider a career in medicine, an increase from the 2011 survey result of 69 percent.

“Physicians recognize ‘the new normal’ will necessitate major changes in the profession that require them to practice in different settings as part of a larger organization that uses technologies and team-based models for consumer (patient) care,” the survey's findings stated.

Progress in medicine

Just brought my wife home from the hospital today. She had a Defibrillator placed in her shoulder. Rather nasty little incision, with stitches. Don't life the arm and another batch of instructions she has to follow, has to take it easy for a week or so, then a checkup in two weeks.

Our hospital has been remodeled a number of times, and for its size, it is probably a "state of the art" hospital. If it is new and advanced, LMH has it. I did not get to go into the operating room but I imagine it is a maze of modern technology. I was even given  a little disc thing that would vibrate when the operation was over.

Her room is also very modern, all sorts of monitors, computers, scanners, motion sensor plumbing in the sink and some other new gadgets.

My point being, it is a very modern, up to date, state of the art hospital.

When she was finished, I was ushered into a small consulting room where the Doctor came after the operation to let me know how it went, and to give me some other instructions. Then, to the room, and instructions to both the wife and I.

The Doctor went over the instructions, the do's and don'ts, things she should and should not do. No moisture around the incision. This can be accomplished by going to the store and purchasing some  "Glad Press N Seal," it does the best job keeping the incision dry.

All the modern technology and then ........... that.

Sue, Sweet Sue - not a song, an industry

New industry getting larger all the time.

Suing surgeries that go wrong, must be one heck of a business, just think about it.

Some guy with no money, tells his Doctor of a problem he is having. The Doctor gets paid.

So the Doctor sends him to a specialist, who also gets paid, even more.

Then the Specialist sends him to a surgeon who decides that surgery is called for.

So, into the hospital for an operation, so the hospital, the surgeon and a whole variety of other "specialists" get paid.

Then, not to be outdone, and it is decided that the operation was not successful, so they sue, all of the above, probably, plus a pharmaceutical company that got involved somehow.

So now, the attorney, the judge, and a whole variety of other "specialists" get paid.

It may start over, he may need corrective surgery, to correct the first surgery, which he really may not have needed in the first place, but look how the economy prospered from all of this, and guess who paid for it all, the taxpayers.

And if you have gotten sick, or not had success, with a medication you are taking, there is a law firm ready to do your suing. I wish I had the ambition to start a website devoted to compiling a list of all the law firms, and what they are looking to sue for. That way you could just look it up and see if what you are taking could result in a lawsuit.

Ain't our system grand?

Medical Costs - Wonder Why?

Why are medical costs so high?

Well, I got a call this morning from my Doctor's office. I didn't talk with them, my wife did.

"Haven't seen "what his name" for a while, scheduling some blood work for him."

Now, my present Doctor really doesn't know me from Adam. If I bumped in to her on the street I am almost sure she would not recognize me. And, I am not sure I would recognize her, even though I have had a heart attack, triple bi-pass, etc., I don't think I ever saw her during that time, always  other Doctors.

Whatever happened to going to the Doctor when you were sick. Computers for one thing.

My guess is that some expensive equipment in the lab has a payment coming up and they are pursuing every avenue to come up with "Medicare" money, or any other means available.

"Get on that computer, Grace, we've got to come up with 200 thousand by the end of the month to make a payment on the LB2000-1, whatever that is. Get some blood tests in here!"

My old Doctor never called me up, when I was sick, I went to him. I think he got tired of it all and retired at early age.

My Dad, the Doctor, a GP with home and office together for a great deal of his career, made house calls, had open office hours, and if someone went to the hospital, THEY were sick or needed an operation, not to get a splinter out of a finger.

I remember one afternoon a Mother brought her little son to Dad's office, came on the Brown Street bus, WITH a chamber pot (a rather big pot kept under the bed for late night calls) stuck on his head. He put it on, and it wouldn't come off. She took her child, with pot on head, walked to the bus stop, got on the bus, got off at our corner, walked that kid into the office.

As I recall, Dad used a hammer and got it off, rather quickly.

No panic, no emergency squad, no fire department, just get on the bus and head for Doc's.

Now, I have to go to the hospital, give blood, in about a week after that, the Doctor will call, wants to see me to go over results. "Hey, for 78, you're blood is pretty good. Oh, here, take this with you, put a stool sample in there, mail it, and I will have you back in a few weeks to go over those results. Oh, and pay as you leave, and we'll bill Medicare for the rest. Good seeing you again Bill."

"My name is Joe."

"Oh, whatever, next."

Sweet Tea

A woman goes to the doctor, beaten black and blue. Doctor: "What happened?"

Woman: "Doctor, I don't know what to do. Every time my husband comes home drunk, he beats me to a pulp."

Doctor: "I have a real good medicine for that. When your husband comes home drunk, just take a glass of sweet tea and start swishing it in your mouth. Just swish and swish but don't swallow until he goes to bed and is asleep."

Two weeks later the woman comes back to the doctor looking fresh and reborn.

Woman: "Doctor, that was a brilliant idea! Every time my husband came home drunk, I swished with sweet tea. I swished and swished, and he didn't touch me!"

Doctor: "You see how much keeping your mouth shut helps?"

Licking Memorial Hospital

Well, I finally did it, I had some blood work done this morning. I had no choice. One of my prescriptions ran out, and the Doctor won't refill until the results of the blood work come back. So, they gotcha.

Went to the local hospital to get the blood work done. They have a new revolving door, one that is almost a "Stress Test." Really takes a lot to get it to move. This is one of those hospitals that is ALWAYS doing something, remodeling, new building, something.

As you go in, there are signs and arrows everywhere, and the lab is not where it was the last time I had to do this, so I had to ask. Got directions, got lost and had to ask again. Found the waiting room.

Sat down, realized that I was doing something wrong, so they pointed to the door, and there was a touch screen where you had to put your name. Put in the name and sat down.

Looked across the room and saw an old friend, John Eshelman, so I went over and sat with him, not for long,, they called his name and he left.

My name was called, went to the three stall sign in desks. Driver license and Medicare card. Computer screens and all sorts of printers around her. One copies the drivers license and Medicare card, and one gigantic computer spits out all of the paper work. I have her one sheet of paper, she did her keyboarding and printed out four.  And, the printer printed out on both sides, not all printers do that, automatically. Two initials and a signature and I went back to sit down.

Just got seated and my name was called. I was ushered to a small room down a hallway. She pointed to a rather elaborate chair, arms that closed in front of my, like a small TV tray of yesterday. On the wall, another computer screen that she entered the same information in that the gal out front had done.

I never have understood why their computers do not communicate with each other. You used to just take a folder from room to room, and gave them the information one time. Now, each computer terminal wants and needs the same information.

Technology when I entered, instead of a ticket, a touch screen to enter your name. Elaborate computer to take down the information. One comment, I have been coming to this hospital for forty years, seen all sorts of changes, from pens to typewriters to computers. But I still have to go over all the information, each time, to a computer. I really do not understand that.

When I just had a folder, they just passed the folder around from person to person, office to office, they would ad sheets of paper, but the information stayed the same. Then computers .... every time. Progress is wonderful.

Anyway, she swabs my arm, draws the needle near, and I automatically looked away, to my right, and there on the wall by the door, surrounded by all this technology, was a WOODEN BRACKET, with a hole in it, and in that hole, a two-cell flashlight, probably cost three bucks, their EMERGENCY LIGHTING SYSTEM. I let out a laugh just as she put the needle in my arm.

But one of the really new, neat things, right outside the blood work lab, as you head to the front door, a new room, a coffee shop, selling Starbucks. Well, you have to "fast" before the blood work, so I am dying for a cup of coffee, and lo and behold, a few feet from the lab, coffee, bagels, danish, muffins. How smart is that? The same people who have a flashlight as an emergency lighting system are smart enough to put a Starbucks outside the door of the lab. $1.60 for a small coffee, but it was worth it.

My Dad would be very sad, today ..........

If my Dad was alive today, he would be very sad, in his latter days he was very concerned about Socialized Medicine. He predicted this day would come, way back in the fifties.

He practiced medicine much of his life. He was in General Practice for many years, did house calls, made his "rounds" at Miami Valley Hospital in Dayton, Ohio, and had office calls in the afternoon and evening.

We had our home and office together, so I was brought up with medicine and a "good" doctors life. I spent a lot of time riding around in the car with him as he made house calls. I saw all sorts of injuries brought to his office. People didn't run to the hospital in those days, they went to see "doc." who probably brought them into the world as well as take care of all their aches and pains.

His General Practice was getting to be too much for him, so in 1943 he went in to OBGYN, and moved his office to an office building in downtown Dayton. We left the old, beautiful home and office, and moved to another section of Dayton.

I will never forget his last night as a GP, so many people, friends, relatives and patients came to pay their respects, the waiting room and our living room were both full. There was one doorway between our living room and his office, and I will never forget, his last patient was gone, his nurse had left, he "locked up," and came in to the living room.

He was exhausted physically and mentally, from all of the emotion of leaving something he had devoted his life to. He was not just their doctor, he was their minister, their friend, their confidant and their Doctor. He was "Doc" to most of them.

He sat in "his" chair, a gray tilt-back recliner, and he cried. I had never seen him cry. I remember I just quietly went to bed. Would your Doctor, today, cry, because he was no longer going to care for you? I doubt if he or she even know your name, till it comes up on the computer.

In the late fifties, he was President of the county Medical Society, and in his last speech, he foresaw, and predicted the inevitable happening, Socialized Medicine, and we saw the door opening to it on Sunday, March 22, 2010.

He predicted a lowering of the Quality of Medical care, he predicted understaffed hospitals, insurance abuse, and all of the problems that we are seeing now, and will see in the future. A minor thing, but I doubt a patient ever saw him wearing anything but a suit and tie. I was visited in my room by a Doctor, wearing blue jeans and a golf shirt. What does your doctor wear?

He would be very sad today, Socialism has reared its ugly head.

R. D. Dooley, M.D. - Chapter XI

CHAPTER XI

This chapter should be entitled, "now I am a man". This story is not one of which I am proud, but is a rather humorous episode enacted during my boyhood days, and it marks the time at which I had grown up.

My father and I were burning trash that had accumulated during the previous winter at the site of a dump some five hundred yards from the house. It was a warm day and the heat from the burning trash pile quickly dehydrated me, so I soon needed a drink.

I proceeded to make my way to the house, and started to enter the kitchen when my sister Ruth, who was busily mopping the kitchen floor, asked me not to walk across the damp floor. I could have gotten a cooler and fresher drink at the well, which was just as close, and as handy as the kitchen tank. But, I was not going to be ordered around, so I proceeded to walk into the kitchen.

My sister told me if I walked on the floor she would strike me with the mop. I did not heed her warning, and continued across the floor, whereupon, she took a "Babe Ruth swing" with the wet mop, and struck me square in the face.

She dropped the mop, sped up the stairs with my sister Mary in close pursuit, and locked the bedroom door behind them. They called to my Dad from the bedroom window and he came to their rescue.

We walked back to the dump site where we had been working. My Dad picked up a barrel stave and informed me he intended to make it difficult for me to forget my folly, and approached
me as if he planned to apply the barrel stay to my backside.

I drew myself rigidly to my full height, and answered I had no intention of receiving a whipping, and he must have lacked a desire to pursue the confrontation, and dropped the stay in the fire, and that day and place, I became a man, and was never punished by whipping again.

There was not much pain in the little tiff, but the Humiliation was colossal.

To be continued