Health Care or Something
My wife's been ill with a serious infection all week. The podiatrist put her on Cipro, which, BTW, wins the award for the biggest honking pill intended for a human to swallow. So, we've been to a variety of doctor's offices, and other sundry related medical establishments.
Item One: Wash your hands in front of me, doc. She's got a bad infection, and I'd like to know that you're not spreading it to your next patient or giving her what your last patient had. Also, gloves, use them.
Item Two: How did x-ray machines get ripped out of doctor's offices? You need an x-ray? Be prepared to traverse the known universe to get one. And then have to hand deliver it to the doctor.
Item Three: You're a medical office building. How come the sidewalks are ice covered and there are no wheelchairs for those patients unable to walk? Never mind that the parking is all taken up by employees.
Item Four: Norweigan women are stubborn. You betcha! Fer shure!
Item Five: Podiatrists have a really, really neat specialty chair in their office. Multi positional and able to be elevated to dizzying heights, for a chair. Were I twenty five again, all sorts of speculations would, er, arise.
She's healing, but my nerves are shot. Such are the perils of being married, I suppose.
