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I’ve had a few days to think about it; and that business Thursday with Dr. So-and-So just makes me madder the more I think about it.
I think they wanted to play Hot Potato with me as the potato: whoever gets stuck with this patient when the grim reaper rings his bell is the loser and has to pay the others. They do like to have as many doctors in the game as they can get. It’s a kind of Dr. Roulette.
I know, I know, don’t think about it. But every few seconds my busted hip reminds me that I actually have plenty to think about; and it’d be so nice if the damned hip didn’t hurt. But they won’t fix it–because this patient is 76 years old and might have cancer. He could land you in the losers’ circle.
Hippocratic Oath, my ass.
O Lord, I’m finding it exceedingly hard to forgive this.



