“An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Where did that phrase come from? I’m guessing it was during the 1800s apple growers association’s marketing campaign.
Moffett tim
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The three advertising execs for the apple association were probably sitting on the tailgate of a wooden wagon and said, “Hey, you know the Live Leeches Growers are making a lot of money in the ‘alternative’ medical market. Eating an apple might appeal to more people than having their blood drawn out by a man-eating worm.” Just a thought.

I eat apples, apple pie, apple butter, spiked apple cider, applesauce and even own an Apple computer. And none of this has kept me from ever seeing a doctor. Some of us have what they call the “white coat syndrome,” which is a nervousness about seeing any type of medical professional. The opposite of this is the person who calls the doctor about a splinter in their finger and thinks it might lead to gangrene or amputation. These are the same people who try to “self-diagnose” by using the internet. A simple freckle has now turned into a rare disease from dinosaur times which causes blindness in one eye and shortening of your toes that could lead to chronic hemorrhoids. I’ve been known to “self-medicate” with the best of them. My “go-to” is a hot toddy with Mr. Walker. I know I’m not alone, being the only livestock owner to have ever raided the barn refrigerator in sick times looking for banamine, dexamethasone or penicillin. And for the occasional hangover … amino acids or dextrose.

Things happen, we get older, and we all end up seeing a professional. If you haven’t been to a doctor in a while, they run you through the wringer. It’s like getting security clearance to see the president while meeting your girlfriend’s parents for the first time. The first line of security is the receptionist. She makes sure you have insurance or cash. They ask questions like, “Have you, any family members or anyone you’ve ever met sneezed?” They take samples, saying, “We need you to fill this Ziploc bag using every orifice on your body.” They poke, prod and feel, and the doctor’s hands are always freezing cold.

I had blood tests taken. My results say I’m type A positive fried chicken. Apparently, I have an irregular heartbeat. Let’s just say this: I didn’t have heart problems until they told me I had heart problems. Now I’m stressed and worried all the time that I might keel over. I never worried before. “Here, take these pills. It will control your high blood pressure caused from worrying about your high blood pressure.”


I can tell you where that irregular heartbeat came from. I have the “step on the scale syndrome.” Why do they do that right before the pulse rate and blood pressure test?