‘Calling Dr. Shyster… Dr. Shyster…’

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I got out of bed angry today, just thinking about that doctor yesterday who blew us off and went his merry way.

“Why, sure I’ll do your hip replacement! As soon as a bunch of other doctors can boost you into perfect health, otherwise, and be ready to take the rap if you should happen to die. You’re 76, you know–gotta keep an eye out for the Reaper!”

By taking on only easy, “can’t miss” cases, Doc Shyster can puff up his record of success–all he has to do is blow off anyone who comes to him with even the slightest medical hang-up. Sort of like the way they used to promote not-very-talented boxers by matching them up against hopeless palookas. (See The Harder They Fall).

So as of today I have no doctor willing to fix my hip. And no, I’m not going to go to upper New York state or lower Honduras to get one.

 

Hospital at Home: Finished

Well, that’s that. The visiting nurse came this afternoon, I’ve had my final dose of antibiotics and a lot of other things… and my tenancy in “hospital at home” has been concluded.

We’re going to celebrate with chicken pot pie for supper. I posted this recipe because WordPress is having another snit about still photos.

Anyway, that’s the end of the urinary tract infection, all gone. Tonight or tomorrow someone will come and clear out the multitude of electronic doodads. I never saw so many wires in my life. I hope they don’t unplug our computer. It would be nice to be able to walk across our living room without getting tangled up in wires.

There’s still the colon cancer to be dealt with, and several other issues, some of which I will not mention just before supper. It’ll be quite a while before I’m out of the woods.

Thank you all for your prayers–and please keep them coming. Patty and I need ’em!