Hardly a week goes by that I don't receive news from a friend of similar age who's experienced a medical problem of some sort. Hearing problems, knee replacement, hip replacement, heart problems, and a daily potpourrie of pills greater in number than all the countries that Trump alienated in recent weeks.
Just now a friend's ICD (implanted cardiovertor/defibrillator) went off, hitting his heart with a seven-pound hammer. "Not a pleasant experience", as he laconically described it. The cardiologist turned the implant off, but is still undecided whether to repair the damaged one or put in a new one. Apparently, the procedure to remove and replace the damaged component is more complicated than implanting a new device, and it requires an electrophysiologist - whatever he is when he's at home. In the meantime, they monitor his heart regularly.
We all know that there are bad electricians, bad plumbers, bad carpenters, why, even bad accountants, but somehow we accept whatever a medical professional tells us to do. Why? Because they wear a white coat and a stethoscope hanging around their neck?
I prefer not to be Mr Murphy, and always get a second opinion first.
