He had a point.
Yesterday I stopped by my local doctors office to get a booster shot, nothing serious, a normal visit, I would not even be seen by my incredibly sexy doctor, who I like to call Dr. SexyPants. She does not appreciate that and has even threatened me with some sort of frivolous lawsuit, but I remind her that not only do I have an Australian lesbian Harvard educated lawyer living with me, but I have no less than 2 somewhat free lawyers on call. She did not believe me, so to prove it to her, one time I actually called one.
Me; Hi it’s matt.
Lawyer; Yes.
Me; I’m calling to prove to my doctor that you are indeed a real lawyer and if she actually files a sexual harassment lawsuit against me you would happily fight it and probably file some sort of anti-defamation frivolous lawsuit against her wealthy doctor ass, am I right?
Lawyer; Who is this?
Me; It’s me, Matt.
Then the phone went dead. This was back when I had AT&T. In fact, as I write that I am making a mental note to call my lawyer and file a series of frivolous lawsuits against AT&T because it was their negligence that interfered with my inability to file numerous other frivolous lawsuits in the past, herewith.
There I was in the doctors office and my favorite nurse took me back for the basics, height and weight, temperature and blood pressure. She weighed me and I had lost 10 pounds and she noted that and I said to her, “look I’ve lost 10 pounds.” This is why she is my favorite nurse of all recorded history. First, if it was legal, she would have a cigarette hanging from her mouth at all times, lit of course. She is about four feet tall, with gray hair and eyes that suggest she has seen a lot of turmoil in her life. She also has a wonderful sense of humor and always greets me with a smile and asks how “her favorite patient is doing?” She looked at me standing in front of her, 10 pounds lighter than the last time I was weighed on that very scale, and then looked me up and down and said, coughing a little phlegm at first, “could lose another 10, wouldn’t hurt ya any.”
She took me back to an exam room and had me remove my shirt so she could administer the shot. When she came turned around with the needle and looked me over, she reassessed and said, “make it another 15 pounds and you’ll be fine, handsome.” Still, I like her style.
As she was about to give me the shot I asked her how many other patients she had used that same needle on and out came that lovely smokers cough and she got all serious, “they throw needles away after they use them” and I asked if they always do that with every needle and she said, “of course.” So I told her about a hospital visit I had in Seattle some time ago.
I had a bike accident many years ago in Alaska, where I broke a bone in my spine and during my recovery, at some point, they did some sort of super magic test where they shot some dangerous nuclear toxic fluid into my blood and had me sit in an uncomfortable chair that seemed to float in space while these giant magnets of some sort spun wildly around me, this would map the broken bone fragments, or something.
The key point was they inject you with this toxic nuclear fluid. I should say they inject US with this toxic nuclear fluid. There were four patients in that waiting room. A nurse came in and injected the woman next to me with something, refilled the syringe and gave her some more of the good stuff, then she turned to me, refilled that very same syringe and injected me, refilled in once more and did the same thing. It was right about then that I mustered the courage to ask if it was proper hospital etiquette to reuse a syringe and she assured me that they always dispose of a syringe after each use. Which of course, she did not do, as I had just witnessed.
I did the magnet chair test, I healed, my life continued. Then yesterday I asked the smoker friendly nurse about this as she laughed so hard I thought she would cough out a lung. “That never happened,” she said to me.
I put my shirt back on after the shot and I had to sign some papers. As I was leaving, outside the clinic, under a tree, in the freezing cold, there stood my favorite nurse, smoking a cigarette. She noticed me as I was leaving and called out, “that didn’t really happen with the syringe, in Seattle did it?” I nodded and said, yes it did. She smiled, “if it did, you should call a lawyer.”
Call a lawyer? Who does things like that?
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