Thursday, April 28, 2005


"I don't think you know what you're talking about," she spat out.

The contempt and anger fueled by her ignorance was just fuming out of her ears. Mrs P's face reddened and her eyes narrowed, "I have The Internet at home. I did an internet search last night and you haven't mentioned even one of the new treatments that are out there." She then shoved some printouts at me from various websites.

I briefly looked them over as she stood there triumphant with her hands on her hips. Huffing. Puffing. I thought about provoking her some more to see what kind of a reaction I could get, but this had gone far enough.

The printouts were from various websites describing treatments that were either not applicable, not available, nor had any basis on medical science. They looked to be farfetched ideas created by sham artists trying to wring out money from desperate people in search of a miracle cure. In fact, applying any of the treatments she wanted as medical treatment would be considered malpractice by modern (and logical) standards.

I sighed internally and handed the sheets of paper back to her, explaining how each of the so-called state-of-the-art and advanced ideas mentioned were unrealistic, based on science fiction, and essentially worthless.

She simply stared back blankly, blinking every so often, not fully understanding the concepts that I tried to explain in basic terms. Realizing that she had nothing to back up her claims of me providing inadequate care for her husband, she scrambled for something and came up with the most ridiculous logic:

"Well, you're just not helping my husband because you're racist."

Yeah, that's it lady. I hate white people. That's why I moved to this country where 70% of the population is white. That's why I'm marrying one of your kind. Geez.

The internet has been great for research and information gathering. But some people fail to realize that not everything out there is true. Hell, if anybody could come up with cures for every disease by a simple Google search nobody would need doctors any more. But since that's not feasable, that's why I went to medical school for 4 years, read hundreds of textbooks and articles, took a thousand tests, and spend nearly 100 hours a week training and learning from my mentors in the hospital.

I sighed again mentally, gathered my thoughts, and resumed the tedious task of trying to get this lady to understand that her husband has terminal cancer, is beyond current surgical and medical therapy, and will die no matter what we do.