Scott Adams is a whiner.
First, let me say I'm one of Scott Adams' biggest fans. I am fairly confident in that, since I am significantly bigger than most people, and most people are fans of Scott Adams.
Who he? He writes and draws the Dilbert cartoon, that's all. As such, he is the frequent biographer of my life.
So why do I think he's a whiner? Well, it all started with the new job...
My new job is about an hour's drive away from my allergist. Since most jobs are reluctant to allow you to take two and a half hours away from your desk once a week, I resolved to get a new allergist. Okay, so really, my wife resolved to get me a new allergist, because I rarely have the organisation to sort through a list of doctors and find me a new one.
So, she crawls through the list of allergists on the insurance company's web site, finds one that's reasonably close, and signs me up for an appointment... which I promptly miss. I sign up for another appointment a month or so out, as that's the soonest he's available, and I come back fifteen minutes early for the appointed time. I have all the forms filled out, and I hand them over, along with my co-pay, and get shuffled into an examining room.
The doctor comes in to examine me, and asks what I'm looking for him to provide, so I tell him I'd like him to help me with my allergies. He tells me "I'm not an allergist, I'm an Ontolaryngologist". That's quite some spelling mistake for the insurance company to make. The short version - he's an ear, nose and throat doctor. I've been to these kind of doctors before, because I used to get terrible ear-aches, and I can't easily equalise pressure in my inner ears when diving or in a plane.
Since I've already paid my co-pay, and the doctor has some time set aside for me, he offers to examine me anyway, and see that I'm in good ontolaryngological health. Then he makes that noise that car mechanics often do, where they suck air in through their teeth, and you know that your car is going to be theirs for the next week.
"You've got a significantly deviated septum." says the doctor, and suggests that he can fix it. As he goes to list the litany of symptoms that I might be feeling as a result of the "mechanical restriction of the airway", I realise he's describing a bunch of things that I've been irritated about for a while - headaches, snoring, yawning, nosebleeds, inability to breathe through my nose most of the time, etc, etc. And, since I've been on a kick lately of eradicating those minor annoyances that perpetually get in the way, I practically jump at the chance for him to operate.
Then I find Scott Adams' blog, where he talks about the aftermath of his septoplasty - not exactly in great terms.
"as pleasant as ... using a rabid porcupine to loofah ... having a head that looks exactly like a soccer ball and living in Brazil ... being Darth Vader about an hour before he gets the helmet".
So I spend the month prior to the surgery getting more and more anxious, and wondering if I should try and back out now before the pain happens to me.
Well, last Friday, I went in for the septoplasty. Quite frankly, I've had more painful nosebleeds from someone turning round too fast in a crowded bar with their elbows raised (why do people do that?) Granted, I've got some great medications to make it all dreamy, but I'm sure that one of the most successful living cartoonists had access to those - and don't think that I get better health care because I work for a health insurance company. [Looking at some of the people that work in the same building as me, it's clear that health is not necessarily their priority in life]
So, two days later, and I'm starting once again to breathe through my nose. Already, I feel better than I was. In another few days, they'll remove these "stents" (basically, they cut a ballpoint pen in half, and stuck one half up each nostril to keep it open), and I'll be up to my new breathing capacity. Quite frankly, I can't wait.
If you're thinking of having the septoplasty yourself, don't listen to Scott Adams. It's not that bad. Scott Adams is a whiner.