Stretch Life Out

There’s something about the world today that inspires one to call others a dumb-ass.  Mostly, I am talking about the medical profession (at least today, tomorrow it could be lawyers).  It seems that nowadays every time I go to a doctor about some paranoia problem or pnemonia, I have to fill out some dumb form I’ve filled out already.  It makes me wonder if the computers in the office are just for show.  What the hell is on there?  Is it just a fancy box to keep schedules in that they screw up anyway?  These supposed “smart” people have asked me the same old questions since my birth:

Smart person:  “What’s your date of birth?”

Me:  “Are you a dumb-ass?”

Smart person:  “Do you have a family history of colon cancer?”

Me:  “How ’bout I stick my foot up your ass?”

Smart person:  “I make more money by wasting your time.”

Me:  “Do you even know my name?”

As you can see, these people don’t know and don’t care who I am or what my problem is.  Just for the record I was recently at the doctor for a minor issue that took thirty seconds to dismiss after a half hour of waiting.  Everytime they ask me about my family history there’s an uncomfortable pause like I should feel ashamed or something, and you’d think that by now their fancy computers would have updated and realized it’s a pointless question.  As you may have guessed, I was adopted.  I don’t know where I come from, I don’t know if anybody ever suffered from anything, and I certainly don’t think they’d want a long painful tube intruding in undesirable areas.  What I do know is that smart people are dumb-asses. 

Sometimes the white coat people get a little curious:  “Mm, you’re adopted, huh?  What’s that like?”  Mm, what do you mean?  What’s it like looking at people’s butts all day?  What’s it like stealing money from the sick all day?  You should have been a bank robber.  I think you missed your calling.  White coat guy:  “So being adopted is no big deal and perfectly okay.  I get it.”  Me, the dumb sarcastic patient:  “Sure, it’s liberating not knowing you could face certain death at any moment.”  You know exactly what you’re in store for and that sounds kinda boring.  You’re boring, quit boring people!

There isn’t really a point to all this.  I just wish the “smart” people would look at my file (and I guess yours too) so I wouldn’t have to repeat myself so much.  I do that enough, and it really annoys my husband.  That doesn’t stop me though.  I just want to make sure I’m being heard.  Unfortunately, the nurse who was desparately trying to get up my butt (which was no where near why I was at the doctor), is deaf.  I don’t know how much thirty seconds costs, I haven’t received the bill yet.  Maybe I should go to medical school.  I want to be able to charge for thirty seconds.  Mm, maybe that’s why those doctors are so smart.  Plus sometimes they save lives, I guess.

I am adopted and I approve this message.