There’s Nothing Wrong With You

You know how it goes…there’s something amiss with your health. Maybe a rapid heart beat, an inexplainable rise in blood pressure, a migraine headache that won’t subside, even a broken bone – you need to seek medical help.

Off you go to the nearby urgent care facility, or if you’re more adventurous – to the ER at the nearest hospital.

Bring blankets (the flimsy hospital gown provides no warmth or body parts privacy), maybe a nice vodka martini in a tasteful flask for mental nourishment to sip on in between the battery of tests you’ll go through.  You’ll pat yourself on the back if you bring your favorite food to nibble on, and of course, the ever present hand-held radiation device to text the minute-by-minute hospital melodrama you’re experiencing.

Obviously, there are life-threatening injuries and illnesses that need the immediate expert medical assistance that most of these places provide – given that you can afford to pay the bill.  But there are times, many in this writer’s experiences, where they simply don’t know what’s wrong with you.

The coffin (MRI) – a mad scientists designed contraption to enable any nightmare you’ve ever had to be fully realized that takes detailed snapshots or photo’s of your insides; the EMG where you might be subjected to needle insertions for evaluating and recording the electrical activity produced by skeletal muscles (mercy!) – maybe the EKG to determine the health of your heart – a CT Scan, or an ultrasound to locate precisely where the kidney stone is, that is ripping through tiny veins, tubes, and other darkened passages in your body – the dungeon of delights is ever present that never can quite determine what’s ailing you.

It would be rather tasteful if these ER or urgent care rooms, filled with the constant beeping of machines monitoring this or that, instead played the 3rd movement from Beethoven’s 9th. Or if the hideous florescent lighting was replaced with subdued lighting, or even more preferably, scented candles to soothe the mind, heart and soul. Alas – tis not to be in the world of modern medicine.

The hospital angels (nurses) tell you that in the ER, well, things don’t really get done that quickly, which equates to spending at least 4 hours, and more than likely 8 hours in their house of pleasure. It’s a great time to catch up on all the hideous television offerings that show you the true state of the lives of your fellow citizens in the richest country in the world.

After innumerable bathroom trips – weak, from no sustenance in the form of food provided, looking for avenues of escape from the madness – the nurse, doctor, or front desk person comes to tell you that they can’t find anything wrong with you, and that it’s okay for you to go home – and of course, don’t forget to check in with your regular doctor about things. Really? Since the 8 hour stint at the ER, with all their gee-whiz technology that couldn’t find anything wrong with you…just what should you see your regular doctor about?

This jag-off writer, has (at least they think) some sort of neurological issues going on.  Exactly what, they’re not sure.

But I try to have some fun with my doctor visits – I particularly enjoy telling them that I partake, use, ingest – herbs, vitamins and natural supplements whenever possible. Like pronouncing that you’ve never heard of a smartphone, that you only talk on your landline whenever there is truly a need, that you believe Russiagate is nothing more than a way for the warmongers to continue their wars – that the politicians and media’s disenchantment they feed us each day – their lies, with their not-so-clever ways of having you look at one hand while the other hand is taking your wallet – that pharmaceutical offerings are, for the most part, nothing more than a way to keep you coming back for more of their jive of unhealth – the looks of emptiness from their faces, and even their arrogant laughs that you’re nothing more than some alien who believes that God, Mother Earth, the dolphins or whoever thought it would be nifty to give human beings free will to make misery of an innocent soul – when you turn the tables and make a visit to the ER, the urgent care facility, or even to your regular doctor –  and throw a wrench in their worldview of corporate shittery and health as they see it…is worth something you can smile upon when leaving their house of strangeness…especially if followed by a vodka martini and listening to Sinatra! 😉

“I refuse to “look up.” Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man’s fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery.” – John Kennedy Toole, A Confederacy of Dunces

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Tonight’s musical offering:

Frank Sinatra – Live at The Sands – “Where or When”

Photo credit: http://www.unsplash.com/@dcp