20 September 2010

going to strangle my 'doctor' in a while

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That lovely new state-of-the-art clinic they have here for the 90% of us on the waiting lists for the five or six actual MDs in the vicinity, the one you call when there's an ice pick in your eye and they tell you everyone's in a meeting and to call back Monday. The one where you go in and say you have this bad problem that is recurring and they give you an appointment six weeks out to talk to the fucker who never listens to you because he's too busy entering minutia in his fancy examining room computer, and left you splayed on an ER gurney for a few hours so SOMETHING would actually be DONE.

If you don't hear from me in a few hours, it's because they're tasering me at the local jail.

Every time I go there I think of all those jackasses willing to sell the farm on universal health because of the money they promised would be allotted for rural health clinics. I think of the prize jackass in West Virginia who babbles excuses for Democratic-Fascists five days a week, who, when it comes down to it, doesn't give a fuck if he's helping drive masses more Americans into poverty by settling for these bones... these husks with the marrow sucked out by every private sector business who can get a cent from it. I told the stupid fuck at the time that the best we'd get from that is a few well-equipped buildings full of insufficiently educated boobs who can't actually HELP anyone because the budget barely covers their salaries... mustn't fritter that away on patients. Fuck no! Then yer out of a job.


You won't believe it. The little shit gave me every goddam test he could think up and NO referral to an endocrinologist. They poked me with some goddam TB test shit, even though I have no remote signs of having TB. Then they took a bunch of blood to test for every other conceivable thing... including lupus... despite me telling them that had been ruled out recently... SYPHILIS, for fucksakes... despite me telling them I haven't been in a filthy restroom in decades. So, being as how all these test results should be back soon, I put off strangling the fucker. The real reason he did not die today is that he's almost too tall for me to reach his neck, wouldn't be able to get the proper grip at that height and I'll need to plot to get him in a sitting position for it.

If all else fails, I'll get Agent BB2, who is eleven feet tall, to come wrestle him down to where I can do the deed... maybe even help me elude capture by The Brain Dead Stormtroopers who pose as our local constabulary... though do not function that way.

They poked me with the TB test shit before I could even ask them WTF was in the injection. So now I'm going to have DO NOT INJECT put on their fancy computers in blinking neon. They can take blood out to see what's up, but they have to be made TERRIFIED of injecting me with ANYTHING. If my arm swells up and falls off tonight, you guys know what to do.


love, 99

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