Mmmmmmmm Side-Effects
Things I learned at the doctor's office today:
1) I'm back up to my "fighting weight." If by "fighting" I mean ability to pin opponents by letting myself fall forward onto them. Actually, though, I'm still a little amazed at where all my weight is really located. I don't have a beer belly, my love-handles are not what I'd call "easy grip," and I don't notice any untoward heaviness to my earlobes. I ain't svelte, but I'm not particularly doughy, so I'm thinking my fat must all be stored somewhere in my feet as a dense mass.
2) My blood pressure is good. I have NO idea how this could possibly be true. With how easily irritated I am by anything these days--news of the world, mad scientists not acknowledging my suggestions and resumes, a complete lack of fabic softener in my washed clothing, lurking puppies with baleful eyes--I would think that any puncture to one of my veins would unleash a stream of blood with sufficient force to bore through a midget.
3) I do indeed still have testicles. It's just nice to have a second opinion about that.
4) There is no ailment in modern medicine that can't be stabbed at with antibiotics. Side effects for the two-week course I'm on include a slight possibility of a ruptured spleen. And headaches and nausea. And explosive decompression. And a sudden fondness for Barbara Streisand.
The doctor was telling me that they were going to stop seeing patients "in office" come October. Instead, there was going to be a big red circle on the sidewalk outside their office windows and patients could walk up, stand there, and shout up to the doctors what their problem was. Then the doctors could select from any number of dart rifles (but let's say three) and Lee Harvey the correct dose of antibiotic into them. No fuss, no muss. So it'll be like:
DOCTOR (leaning slightly out from window): What seems to be the problem today?
PATIENT #1: Well, I can't seem to shake these sniffles and the aphids in my ears-*thwptpt!* patient clutches neck
DOCTOR (handing small rifle back to the nurse): You'll recieve a bill in a few days. Next!
PATIENT #2 (holds arm, bent back at the elbow, toward the window): Does this look right to you? *pow**thunk* Ow! Right in the... ow!
DOCTOR: Suck it up, you baby. Next!
PATIENT #3: Er... well, can you see the size of this lump on my neck? And what does it mean when you shit blood?
Doctor: Hmmmmm. (Nurse helps him get bazooka on shoulder and starts to load 20mm Rocket Propelled Syringe) Turn your head and cough, please, and try not to move...
They'll also have medical ninjas to take blood samples before you even leave the parking deck. Medical ninja robots.
1) I'm back up to my "fighting weight." If by "fighting" I mean ability to pin opponents by letting myself fall forward onto them. Actually, though, I'm still a little amazed at where all my weight is really located. I don't have a beer belly, my love-handles are not what I'd call "easy grip," and I don't notice any untoward heaviness to my earlobes. I ain't svelte, but I'm not particularly doughy, so I'm thinking my fat must all be stored somewhere in my feet as a dense mass.
2) My blood pressure is good. I have NO idea how this could possibly be true. With how easily irritated I am by anything these days--news of the world, mad scientists not acknowledging my suggestions and resumes, a complete lack of fabic softener in my washed clothing, lurking puppies with baleful eyes--I would think that any puncture to one of my veins would unleash a stream of blood with sufficient force to bore through a midget.
3) I do indeed still have testicles. It's just nice to have a second opinion about that.
4) There is no ailment in modern medicine that can't be stabbed at with antibiotics. Side effects for the two-week course I'm on include a slight possibility of a ruptured spleen. And headaches and nausea. And explosive decompression. And a sudden fondness for Barbara Streisand.
The doctor was telling me that they were going to stop seeing patients "in office" come October. Instead, there was going to be a big red circle on the sidewalk outside their office windows and patients could walk up, stand there, and shout up to the doctors what their problem was. Then the doctors could select from any number of dart rifles (but let's say three) and Lee Harvey the correct dose of antibiotic into them. No fuss, no muss. So it'll be like:
DOCTOR (leaning slightly out from window): What seems to be the problem today?
PATIENT #1: Well, I can't seem to shake these sniffles and the aphids in my ears-*thwptpt!* patient clutches neck
DOCTOR (handing small rifle back to the nurse): You'll recieve a bill in a few days. Next!
PATIENT #2 (holds arm, bent back at the elbow, toward the window): Does this look right to you? *pow**thunk* Ow! Right in the... ow!
DOCTOR: Suck it up, you baby. Next!
PATIENT #3: Er... well, can you see the size of this lump on my neck? And what does it mean when you shit blood?
Doctor: Hmmmmm. (Nurse helps him get bazooka on shoulder and starts to load 20mm Rocket Propelled Syringe) Turn your head and cough, please, and try not to move...
They'll also have medical ninjas to take blood samples before you even leave the parking deck. Medical ninja robots.
posted by Greg at 8:29 AM
2 Comments:
Your mentioning testicles and antibiotics in the same post leads me to wonder what exactly might be wrong with you.
Hmm.
Doctors love testicles, which is why my Lee Harvey Oswald approach to medicine probably won't come to be. The combination of ball-handling and coughing drives them particularly wild. In a purely professional way, of course. Women have their own secret doctors in addition to their regular doctors, but men prefer the convenience of one-stop fondling.
They also love the "Rectum? I nearly killed him!" joke.
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