For Anxiety, God, & Country
26 August 1999
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For Anxiety, God, & Country
26 August 1999
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11:24 PM: Tick tick tick. Saw the doctor, woke him up, said "Doctor? Is there nothing I can take?" He made me do a whole physical just so I could get some drugs. Shee. Lorazepam. Whatever that is. "Anterograde amnesia, decreased or lack of recall of events during period of drug action, has been reported after administration of lorazepam and appears to be dose-related." Hah. How will I tell?
Anyways, that's done now. My blood pressure is just barely OK. So a couple more years until I keel over, I guess. He gave me the usual line about smoking, but put it in a very misleading way: that I had reduced my lifespan by 20%. 20% of what? And it's a risk, not a certainty. By that logic, riding my bicycle to work every day is reducing my lifespan by a hell of a lot more than 20%. It's not like I'm denying it's an unhealthy thing to do, but please. Since he went on to list some things I could do to improve my health, like "get some exercise - just even a slow stroll, get out there and move", when it clearly said on my chart about riding to work, I figured that he was not really talking to me but to Generic Patient, and that it would be of no great use to try and discuss any of this. Besides, he hadn't given me my prescription slip yet.
Work is being, naturellement, el grosso dumbkopfshire. People keep panicking because I'm not going to be here, for two whole weeks. My gosh. Here's a clue: in 3 months, you'll never be able to tell that any of it happened. Young people are just so excitable.
Office crush is wearing her hair down & out all the time now and keeps coming back after the gym. Sweaty, you know. I think I am counterfeiting a decent person rather well.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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