Karen had never been a fan of going to the doctor. The waiting rooms, the endless paperwork, the awkward small talk with the receptionist—no, thank you. So when she started feeling sick one Tuesday, her first instinct wasn’t to call her physician. It was to ask ChatGPT.

She sat down on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, and opened her laptop. “ChatGPT,” she typed, “I have a headache, fever, and a strange rash on my left elbow. What do I have?”

Within seconds, the AI responded: It could be a number of things, but based on your symptoms, it seems likely you have a rare but serious condition called ‘Acute Rashitis.’ It's very uncommon, but it can lead to complications. Please seek immediate medical attention.

Karen stared at the screen. Rare but serious? She frowned. Could it really be that serious? She was no doctor, but she was also no stranger to the internet. She’d Googled her symptoms before—headaches, fever, rash—and the results had never been this... urgent.

She hesitated for a moment before doing what anyone would do in a time of crisis: She texted her friend Laura.

“I think I have Acute Rashitis,” Karen wrote.

Laura texted back almost instantly: “What is that? And why are you texting me? Go to the ER!”

But Karen wasn’t ready to make that move just yet. After all, she trusted ChatGPT. After a few more minutes of research, including a deep dive into obscure Reddit threads, Karen decided to take the AI’s advice seriously. She packed up her things, called a cab, and went to the nearest hospital.

Three hours later, Karen sat in a sterile examination room, still wrapped in her blanket, clutching her phone with a sense of defiance. A doctor entered the room, a middle-aged man with a clipboard in hand. He glanced at her symptoms and said, “Let me guess—you Googled your symptoms?”

Karen tried not to smile. “Well, not exactly. I consulted an expert.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “An expert, huh? What expert?”

“ChatGPT,” she said, her voice dripping with confidence. “It told me I have Acute Rashitis.”

The doctor blinked. “ChatGPT, huh? That’s an interesting source for a diagnosis. I suppose next you’ll tell me it also cured your rash?”

Karen smiled proudly. “Well, it told me to take a warm bath and apply aloe vera. The rash seems a little better already. And my headache’s gone too. So...”

The doctor sighed, sitting down across from her. “You know, I can’t officially endorse that method. But... if it works for you, I suppose that’s something. Let me check the rash.”

He examined her elbow, where the rash was visibly fading. “Well, I’ll be damned. It does look better. But—”

“No, no 'buts'!" Karen interrupted, her grin widening. "ChatGPT saved my life. It told me to get help immediately. And look, no hospital bills for a rare disease that doesn’t exist!”

The doctor stared at her, clearly torn between wanting to laugh and needing to maintain professionalism. “Karen, I’m going to say this for the record: ChatGPT did not save your life. It might have made you panic a little less, but it's a machine—there’s no way it can diagnose diseases properly.”

Karen raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, the timing was pretty miraculous. Plus, it didn’t suggest I had something completely random like bubonic plague or alien brain parasites.”

The doctor shook his head, clearly defeated by her logic. “Fine. You win, Karen. ChatGPT gets honorary doctor status.”

Karen stood up to leave, still beaming. “I knew it! That’s exactly what it said would happen. It predicted my victory."

She paused, then added, "I’ll leave a glowing review online. You should too. I think it’s going to revolutionize healthcare."

As she walked out of the room, the doctor muttered to himself, “Great. Now I’m going to have to deal with patients thinking ChatGPT is the next WebMD…”

But Karen wasn’t listening. She was too busy composing her next text: “Hey Laura, ChatGPT saved my life today. I told you it was the future!”