Where my vainty ends

So, this morning, as I'm driving to the office, I start to recount the ways in which I really am "over the hill" . . . starting with my lack of appreciation for most popular music and ending with my clip on sunglasses. Gosh I'm a nerd. I smile appreciatively at babies in stores . . . which is overly granparent like, no? I will forgo fashion for comfort pretty much any day. In a word, I'm old.

Then, I read this article in the NY Times about how dermatologists are now catering so much to cosmetic patients . . . that medical dermatology is difficult to find anymore. More and more "doctors" are leaving that icky medical stuff to non-doctors so they can make sure the patients getting botox or "beauty" treatments have a positive experience. Soft lights, music, perhaps a chilled juice?

I understand . . . money makes the world go 'round. This article reflects an experience a friend of mine had earlier this year . . . she was having a rather extreme and bothersome allergic/stress/something scary reaction. The first doctor she went to . . . after finally coming to grips with all the fears that go along with assuming you have something dire . . . pretty much dissed her because she wasn't there for a beauty treatment.

I can't help but a) be a tad insulted that a whole segment of the medical profession could so obviously sell out and b) think "HA!" I hate going to the doctor sufficiently that I don't see myself going for something which is purely vanity. And, to be fair . . . I think that dermatologists who really only want to handle "beauty" work . . . should say so very clearly in their advertising so people aren't tricked into thinking they are seeing a "real" doctor.