My father is a pharmacist. Growing up, we went to the doctor when we couldn’t figure out what was wrong, when we sincerely thought we might be dying, or when we were bleeding from something that needed stitches. Everything else was taken care of at home, usually pretty adequately.
And my feeling is, why bother the doctor if I am not sick? Like there are sick sick people in the world who need the doctor’s time. Why I am I taking his or hers up if all I need is rest and fluids and stuff? When I was in the ER last week, it was because I’d screwed my back up so badly I couldn’t MOVE. Everybody there for the sniffles made me homicidal.
Mr. A finds this mindset maddening. He gets regular checkups. He has good relationships with his PC and his dentist and has every ache and pain investigated just in case. He’s not a hypochondriac, but he’s thorough.
Where do you fall on that scale?