Don’t ever get old! People give you looks like you’re some kind of Daffy bass turd, just cuz you can’t understand their mouth full of marbles! As usual, before I took my seat beside the other sick sardines, the Secretary shouts: ‘HAVE YOU STILL GOT THE SAME OLD HEALTH CARD?’ I’m not deaf yet! You don’t have to let the whole room know my health card is older than me! After an hour and a half, he gets to me, cuz I’m now the only one left in the room… It’s like they always plan it that way! And he always says ‘Mr. Darrell! (Like I just turned 5.) Come on down!’ (Like this is a game show, and I might win a free whistle!)
So here I am trying to explain to my Doctor, who looks like a big tube of beefaroni, I need a little more clanzopam because when I try to blog, my fingers shack so much, I’m reduced to a two-fingered Sloth, when it would be so much easier for me to be able to type; or eat a sandwich without spewing lettus all over the room! Or sleep without waking up to my own, private earthquake! Even the cat shook!
Suddenly I realize, he’s not gonna do it for me, and wondered what I am doing talking to a Government stooge in the first place? I really should know better! The waiting room is like a zoo! You can’t read; kids run up and burp in your face! They’ve got the radio blaring, all for some cud chewing 19-year-old Secretary… That must make it harder to yap with her boyfriend over the phone all day; an important part of the job! Then the pharmacist says: ‘Oh! I don’t have enough pills for you, you’ll have to come back! The whole point was to see the Doctor so I could get the script for my pills! There goes that plan shot all to Hell!
And depression pills? Forget about those! What does it matter if it’s right on the screen in front of his eye-balls? I’ll just go about my business axe murdering the entire city! I’ll get them. I have to go back there every second day! Whatever happened to someone taking care of your health problems? My wife’s had her ear falling off for over a year now, and nobodies doing anything about it! It’s untreatable! Everything we have is untreatable! He wants me to have a check up next time. That’s monkey talk for his obsession to stick his hand up my ass! Treat this! Pfffft!! Take big whiffs! It will go away faster…