Doc in a Box

By David Faucheux

Recently I have had a medical adventure that reminded me of two adventures in the past. These adventures cause me to wonder if having a computerized AI acting as a doctor mightn't be a bettor approach than a human.

I was doing some urological research, yes, I know, ick--but, in any case I found an excellent web site for a doctor practicing on Long Island. The information appeared to be current, well-presented, and easy-to-understand. Amazingly, there was even an email button so that one could email the physician. I did, received what appeared to be a friendly, curious response within the hour.

This response invited me to call. It did not say when to call, and thinking that perhaps, it might not be a good idea to call that night, I sent an email clarifying my question.

I sent another email 3 days later. A week after that, I left a message. The following morning, June 25, I did receive a call from the doctor. He was interesting, young-sounding, but had this abrupt--even rude--manner that I found very off-putting. I had one last question and he said he had to go and immediately went. No offer to email further, to call again. I am not sure if this was because he realized I was not a physician, I had not claimed to be one. No stipulations were put on who could email and why. Or was it an MD/Ph.D.'s thoughtlessness to a nobody? Were I a student at Cornell where he holds a faculty position, I'd have put the PC-pretensions of the Ivy-league to the test and called him and the medical school on this behavior.--Not very affirming.

Another MD/Ph.D. annoyed me. This was in 1985. A geneticist connected with my then Houston-based ophthalmologist wanted to study our family because he suspected the eye condition was x-chromosome-related. During the summer of 1985, he and a professor from Tulane University came and they took blood from many family members and relatives. I remember feeling like a dehumanized specimen, of no personal value, just a supplier of interesting genotype material. I recall the pictures they took and the female prof telling me to be quiet as the geneticist was talking. Hello. If she liked him so much, she should have studied his blood, not mine. Last year, I actually emailed the geneticist. To say that the responses were blunt and brief would be to understate things. Were I to be able to travel back in time, I'd have passed on that summer day in 1985.

I feel used and exploited and wonder if anything they found out went into a medical treatment modality that made life better for someone and also then enriched them all. I had heard that a California man sued because he felt that he should receive some compensation from the people who became rich using his genetic material. The enlightened California courts did not see it that way--he got nothing! That would be especially troubling in my case as I live on an amount that puts me near the poverty line. I am working on changing that, but Louisiana is what it is. I'll have to move, I suspect.

The third medical experience was bizarre. I had read a fascinating book about bipolar spectrum disorder written by a person associated with Johns Hopkins. I decided to contact him and say how I had enjoyed the book. His voice sounded dead, lifeless, and like he simply couldn't have cared less that I had bothered to find his number and attempted to say thanks. This was when long distance was not flat rate either.

An artificial intelligence might at least be programmed with the semblance of manners. It wouldn't have to feel sympathy or concern, but only pretend to. It's like I once told a friend, physicians don't need to be sorry they have kept us waiting more than an hour to see them, they need merely to pretend to be and convince us of same. A noted talk show host said once that if he was ever kept waiting more than ten minutes, he found another doctor. I suspect celebrities get a better standard of care than the rank-and-file. After all, they can afford it. I'd settle for a 30 minute or less wait. My time is valuable, too! I think it is.

IMAGINE That!