Nope, this isn’t a dozen roses.
Not a box of chocolates (milk — I wouldn’t dream of giving you dark).
Not skimpy underwear.
Just some important information from a fake medical professional and expert patient to ensure you can get those from someone else next year. And the next. And the next.
Know the signs and share this one with your friends.
Filed under Bloggin' Buddies, Family, Health and Medicine, Humor
One of the first birthday parties my son Jacob went to was for a little British boy who was living near us in Connecticut. One of the highlights of Josh’s party was that we played “Pass the Parcel.”
Pass the Parcel is the British non-violent equivalent of Musical Chairs. There was a large lumpy parcel, wrapped loosely in newspaper – inside was a treasure. Music was played, and the parcel was passed from hand to hand until the music stopped. When it did, whoever held the parcel removed a layer of wrapping, and the music started again. Ultimately a wonderful treasure I have long since forgotten was revealed and given to the kid who removed the last bit of wrapping on the parcel.
I quickly realized that Pass the Parcel had Musical Chairs beat. I am also sure that Vickie K would agree. She was the poor birthday girl I propelled across the room at her 6th birthday party when I snagged the last remaining chair when the music stopped. I wonder why I wasn’t invited to her 7th birthday party.
But actually, today I realized that I don’t like Pass the Parcel after all. You see, today I realized that I AM the bloomin’ parcel.
Some of you may know that I have been a bit under the weather lately. I have Crohn’s Disease, which sucks. Things in my gut have been a little too active lately. Which in turn makes me rather inactive, as in sleepy. Naturally, being the smart girl that I am, I called my doctor. Doctors. I have a lot of them.
In the past two months I have visited my internist, who passed the parcel to my gastroenterologist.
I visited my gastroenterologist who passed the parcel to my urologist and passed the parcel to a radiologist (who I assumed was connected to the barely visible face behind the window of the radiology lab I was in).
The gastroenterologist read the report from the previous parcel holder and passed the parcel again. This time to my gynecologist.
I must admit that being passed once again was once too much for me. I lost it. I burst into tears, wondering if these doctors have any clue what it is like to be a patient. If they have any clue what it is like to be a goddamn parcel, passed from latexed gloved-hand to latexed gloved-hand. I don’t think they do.
So tonight I am rethinking my health care options. And I see changes in my future.
Because I know one doctor I can go to who will look at my entire body. He will press my abdomen, my lumpy bits. He will look at my teeth, my eyes, my nether regions. He will look into my eyes, clip my toenails and check all the areas that need attention. He will not send me to other specialists because he specializes in everything. He will not send me out for tests because he knows how to do them and will do them right there in his office. All I have to do is not bite him.
Yup, next time around, I’m going to my vet for my healthcare.
Our vet is a man
and Cooper is really much more handsome.
My dog, Cooper is nearly 105 years old. He is declining, but hey, he is 105 years old! But no matter what is wrong with him, we take him to the same place, and Dr. C. looks at him, figures out what is wrong with Coops, prescribes the medicine, fills the bottles with pills, and sends us all on our way. When the time comes, the vet will give Cooper a peaceful end.
So yeah. Next time I’m sick, I’m going to the vet. I won’t even have to say a word.
Oh Lord. I’m not quite sure how to handle the guilt. Will I need therapy? Drugs? Electric shock treatments?
I considered going to confession. But as a lapsed Catholic I didn’t want to risk it.
You can’t be too careful
What will happen to me? To my family? How will my husband, my son, my brothers, live with the shame of being family members of one such as me.
And what if I go to jail? I’ve never been, but I’ve watched enough prison movies to know I wouldn’t do well there. I won’t last long at all. The other cons will hate me and make sure I pay dearly.
But it’s not my fault. I didn’t know. If I had, I know I’d have lived my life differently.
You see today I learned that I am a serial killer. You’d think I might have noticed before now, wouldn’t you? That I’d be scurrying around, digging holes in the basement floor or the back yard. That I would be having all sorts of bonfires. That at a minimum I would have purchased a wood-chipper to dispose of the evidence.
Nope. It wasn’t necessary.
You see, I have been carrying the bodies around with me for decades. No wonder I’m tired all the time.
I know you didn’t listen to the video. But you should have. Because then you’d know that because I have used birth control pills – contraceptives – Pastor Kevin Swanson thinks I am a serial murderer with a uterus filled with dead fetuses.
Ewwwww. Got any Massengil?
Make mine a double!
* * *
Tell me, is there a contest going on to see which right-wing fanatic can say the stupidest thing ever heard by mankind?
Do I get a vote?
Because this comment is clearly a contender.
All images from Google. Thanks Google!
Filed under Childhood Traumas, Health and Medicine, Hypocrisy, Science, Stupidity
Let’s put this in perspective, now. Gun violence is a public health issue. Period. We reduced other public health threats by taking appropriate action. We can fix this one too.
From the Journal of the American Medical Association — information on how we reduced deaths from other causes and what we need to do to reduce deaths from this one:
(Mozaffarian D, Hemenway D, Ludwig DS. Curbing Gun Violence: Lessons From Public Health Successes. JAMA. 2013;():1-2. doi:10.1001/jama.2013.38.)
But of course, this shows the heart of the problem:
More guns aren’t the answer. Guns in schools and shopping malls and office buildings aren’t the answer. Fewer guns — and guns with smaller magazines that’s the ticket.
To contact your Congressional representative and Senators and ask them to help enact reasonable gun laws, follow these links:
House of Representatives: http://www.house.gov/representatives/
Senate: http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm
Filed under Elections, Gun control, Health and Medicine, Humor, Hypocrisy, Law, Mental Health, Stupidity
It was not my fault. Really. I would admit it if I were responsible. But I was asleep. Snoozin’ in my bed. After all, it was 2 a.m.
The other night I sent an email out to everybody I know. Friends I correspond with a lot. Friends I haven’t corresponded with much lately and probably should have. Friends I really have lost touch with.
And then there were my clients. Yup. They were there too. Clients I deal with routinely, and those we do business with periodically. Some who haven’t needed help from my company in 7 or 8 years. Some who probably can’t quite recall who I am, and others who have changed jobs 3 or 4 times since the last time we chatted. My business is like that.
And last, there were my business contacts. Folks I might need to look up should I, say lose my job.
You know, if I were to devise a way to get back in touch with everyone I have ever known, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t do it by sending them a link to a miracle diet aid.
As a fake medical professional, well, I don’t recommend diet aids. Nope. “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” That’s my firm belief when I see recommendations for miracle pills that will let you lose weight while still stuffing your craw with McD’s.
[As a fake medical professional, though, I just love the idea of liposuction. Although I will never forgive the industry for not using the motto I developed when liposuction was brand new:
Still, I’m pretty sure I’ll never have liposuction, either.]
So the other day I woke up to an email by my nephew, sometimes commenter and friend Clinton. He was a little perplexed as to why I sent him a link to a diet website. Clinton is pretty trim, actually. If I were going to send diet recommendations to anyone, Clinton would not be tops on the list.
And then I noticed that there were lots of failure notices in my Yahoo account inbox. Lots of the emails that I had not even sent did not go through.
But a whole bunch of them did. Shit.
And in these emails, I apparently told my friends to visit a diet pill website. So that they would no longer be so damn fat.
I apparently told my clients and business contacts to visit a diet pill website. So that they would no longer be so damn fat.
I apparently told my boss to visit a diet pill website. So that she would no longer be so damn fat.
Do you think I can get into the Witness Protection Program?
Filed under Criminal Activity, Health and Medicine, Humor, Stupidity
I got TWO!
I recommend Karen Kingsley and Kingsley Ink
The Highest Honor
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
FiftyFourandAHalf 