This Friday a man I don't really know, don't trust, and who only seems to be interested in the pleasure he gets from slicing on a living person is going to reach up my nose and (hopefully) cut all the sick out of my fucking head. Fortunately, I will probably be unconscious for that whole nasty endeavor, but it still brings a lot of Deep Hate out in me.
I watched doctors apathy my mother to death for most of a decade. Watched people who openly mocked her for her weight ignore the cancer that was creeping through her entire body until all the MRIs and x-rays and examinations didn't matter anymore. People whose only job was to watch for the things that ended up killing her, who would rather make a fat joke than discern between mysterious nerve pain and the pain caused by cancer ravaging bones and organs. I Hate doctors. Spending fifteen minutes in an office, listening to a bored man try to justify yet another course of the antibiotics that have to this point pretty much only served to destroy my digestive tract fills me with the kind of rage that characters in stories dedicate their lives to and ruins peoples lives in real life. The idea of spending three hours helpless while that same man digs around millimeters from my fucking brain is loathsome beyond description. The only thing that keeps me from being reduced to a Lovecraftian puddle of cosmic fury, much less actually going along with this, is my wife.
A person in pain for long enough tends to turn into a dick, especially a person known for being a grumpy fuck in the first place, and I won't put her through that. Not if I can help it. So for this week I'm going to do my best to be a man and not a Shoggoth, because she shouldn't have to pay for my anger. I honestly hope that this whole event can vent some of the poison from my heart, maybe even go some way towards convincing me that there are actually doctors out there who aren't worthless, self-righteous, shit-souled, fuckpuppets. I hope.
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