|This won't hurt a bit.|
I didn't phrase that sentiment well. I have nothing against physicians as people. I'm sure some of them perform a service of some sort to society as a whole, if only by dint of not being street mimes. I don't cross the street to avoid doctors. I'll talk to them at parties. I even know better than to try to wheedle free medical advice out of them, when we meet socially.
It's going to their offices and sitting on that ridiculous paper-covered bench and having the inevitable conversation about weight and exercise that don't like.
But, despite my efforts to avoid the six-hour wait in a tiny room filled with coughing derelicts and shrieking, mucous-covered infants, I am forced to visit a doctor occasionally. Last week saw one of those days.
As I sat in a corner and inhaled the kind of bacteria-rich air one normally associates with Europe during the Black Plague, I made certain stern resolutions concerning my future relationships with doctors and the medical profession in general.
- I will NEVER wait more than two hours to see a doctor, ever again. This includes situations in which the transaxle assembly from a Peugot is protruding from my chest cavity. I will crawl to the door and leave via Hearse, if necessary, but I am done with the long waits. Here's some medical advice for you, doc -- don't schedule 25 appointments for the same half-hour. Or do, I don't care, I won't stick around. My time is no less valuable than yours.
- I don't want to be be in your office. You certainly don't want me there. Let's stick to the matter at hand. Stitch up whatever is bleeding and present me the bill. If I want a lecture on wellness - wait, there's no point in completing that sentence because I do not and never will want a lecture on wellness. Next.
- If I had to sit behind the receptionist's desk and listen to the Great Unwashed hack and snort and moan and whine all day every day I would quickly grow to hate them, just as your receptionist Cruella de Satanica does. I don't expect a hug and a pat, but I didn't come here to engage in a snarling contest, either.
- Just give me the freaking pills. That's what this whole rant boils down to. You aren't Marcus Welby, caring, concerned comic-strip MD, and I'm not going to experience some life-changing epiphany on this paper-covered bench and run out and become a granola-gobbling, marathon-running, heart-rate aware athlete. Just scribble on the pad and let's both get on with our lives, because oh by the way you've got 175 more people lined up to see before lunch and it sounds like Cruella just bit someone.
Rant Mode off.
Mug and Meralda News
Also in the works is the print edition of All the Turns of Light. I hope to announce completion on that project this week. The print version of the first book in the series, All the Paths of Shadow, is already available (click here for the print version).
The second round of edits on the new Markhat book, The Darker Carnival, is complete! The release date is April, which is getting close.
And that's it for this week. Remember, kids, take your medicine, look both ways before crossing the street, and never fire off an incendiary round while inside the gasbag of a hydrogen-filled dirigible.