IS OUR MEDICINE SICK?

Today I bought medicine worth R73 from the pharmacy. Cash. I had a chest complaint you see, went to the doctor (call him Dr J) and he told me I may be developing asthma whilst reassuring me that even people older than I have developed the respiratory disease from time to time “I’m sure you’ll be clear by the end of the week, failing which come back and see me”. So he handed me a piece of paper with three things on it; an antibiotic, a cough mixture and an asthma spray. I can’t remember what was spent on this deal, I’m pretty sure it came close to R500. Cash. I know by now you are probably asking “why doesn’t this idiot have medical aid like the rest of us?” Let’s just say I had personal issues with them, which have now been sorted out and we are back together again in a loving, 50/50 relationship, which begins at the start of June and will see me donating a few thousand to them and others who took the gym, movie, and other-non-real-freebies option every month.

Back to the pharmacy. This medicine didn’t help me much and I went back after running empty on two out of the three. The guy just said “ag don’t worry, these things usually take quite a bit of time to clear”. R500 later. Then he sent me to the pharmacy, for one bottle of cough mixture, worth R73. And there I was, thinking the government had fought a brave war against the pharmaceutical industry, fighting for little naïve people like myself and others who believe medicines are expensive. I may be wrong of course, I mean I don’t live on a hill in a place called “Something Valley” or “Blah blah Estate” or “So and So Hills”, therefore even when bread prices rise from R6.80 a loaf to R7.20 I feel it. I feel it hard.

How do the really poor people cope against this in our beloved Mzansi? You know I had to pay an extra R50 to see this oke Dr J because I hadn’t made an appointment to come see him. Actually when I called to make this appointment, which everyone must do as soon as they get sick, I was told there was no space anymore, all the doctors were fully booked and extremely busy today. Politely though, the nice lady at reception said I could come sit and wait for someone to finish so I can see a doctor, but that would cost me an extra R50 because I don’t have an appointment. I get there and there are two people in the queue and both are on their way in. Two minutes later I’m able to see Dr J. Regardless, 50 bucks gone.

Is it me or is our entire medical industry quite sick at the moment? Don’t get me wrong, the profession is amongst the best in the world, I know this for a fact. Yet somewhere along the way, the “father of modern medicine” Hippocrates, made way for Hypercrites, the guy who is only interested in meeting certain patient targets so he can buy that latest Mercedes-Benz.

My grandfather loved his fancy cars. In fact, the family still has his 1970s red Mustang, full left-hand drive and all. He was a medical doctor, the first black one in the district of Germiston. Yet people would queue up outside his home surgery not just for his excellent medicine, but also his friendship and warm reception. The guy I went to see last week – call him Dr J – introduced himself to me again today. “Hello, I’m Dr J.” Later he asked what medicine I was given the last time I was there. My word.