In Memoriam…

I’ve worked at a small health food store for the last four years. It’s the bomb diggity. It is.

Working there has taught me so much, but mainly, it has taught me to strongly distrust doctors. Here’s me at the doctor’s office. I hired that actor cat off Craigslist, and I think he really nailed my posture.

It may surprise you that I do not have a general practitioner or whatever you call them. Haven’t since high school. Still alive folks! Don’t need drugs every time my throat gets a little itchy. I may have a compromised immune system, but I am a HEALTHY germ-aphile.

Am I recommending you rebel? Buck off the yolk of society! Damn the man! Shake the machine! Soylent Green is people!

No. Well, kind of, but I don’t want to get in trouble. (And I don’t really trust Charlton Heston since he got so heavily armed.)


 I too believe in a panic room where I have enough weaponry to arm each of my 10,000 tentacles. 

Anyway, I feel I’ve set this up pretty well for you at this point. You get the point. I don’t like doctors and don’t trust them as far as I can spit (which is actually further than I trust doctors).

I do have a rheumatologist because DUH. I like my rheumatologist, I trust her, mainly because she’s the only doctor who didn’t try to shove a drug down my throat. She let me make my own decisions.

She also makes me feel really strong because she’s a tiny little woman with bird bone fingers and when she has me squeeze her hands to make sure they’re not dying, I’m afraid my weak little mitts will CRUSH hers.

But alas, all good things must come to an end and she just got some awesome job elsewhere. Next time I go in, I’ll have to start all over with a new doctor. Hiss.


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