Joan the Moaner walked out of the doctor’s office carrying her prescription slip and was off to 1 of her 9 pharmacies that she frequented. Joan was a classic hyper-hypochondriac, which means that she would create situations that would require medical intervention just so she would have an excuse to see a specialist. In this particular instance, Joan grabbed hold of her pet Chow’s tail and would not let go until the animal’s responsive anger kicked in. Success. The dog bit her in her right hand and she was off to a hand specialist. Upon arriving, Joan was pushed through the line because of her emergency situation and was examined. Looking at 4 small canine puncture wounds, the doctor assessed that the dog had given Joan a warning bite, produced a little blood, and that was that. But like all well trained medical professionals, a prescription and a follow up visit was required to keep the cash flowing from rich industries to wealthy careers. He prescribed an antibiotic just in case the wound became infected. Fast forward 60 days and let’s see Joan’s outcome: First, she took twice the prescribed dosage because if 1 pill is good, 2 are better. This powerful antibiotic cascaded through her body and nearly wiped out the microbes (flora) in Joan’s digestive tract. Diarrhea, skin outbreaks, and lethargic behavior followed. After 5 specialists sent her on a pharmaceutical roller coaster to fight excessive water intake, acne, and depression, an old country doctor listened to her story accurately and realized Joan was gonna need probiotic treatment to reestablish her healthy flora. He suggested cheeses and kimchi (fermented cabbage) and told her it would take about 60 days to correct. Joan panicked and sought a specialist who ordered a Fecal Transplant (F.T.). A Lear jet left Pennsylvania with a load of fresh(?) feces from the National Fecesbank and had it implanted in her gut. Joan is alive and doing well thanks to the brave Quakers who know how to take a healthy shit.

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