Well That’s Disturbing…
One of the many benefits of student life at the University of Kentucky is the fact that basic healthcare is free. Oh no, they don’t give you a choice. They take your tuition first, and then say “Oh, by the way, you get thisnthisnthis”. Which is pretty cool if you use it. One of these days I will actually use the Johnson Centre. One of these days. Maybe quite a bit, if I’m allowed to sneak Kevbo in with me.
So it’s getting close to time where I should have my annual pipe-checking event. Dial up the clinic, get an appointment in great time (less than a week, and not because they didn’t have earlier spots). Sweet. I’m set.
Go in today, and I find out my doctor is some T. Dale dude. Didn’t think anything of it until the nurse mentioned that he used to work at the hospital down in Cynthiana. “Oh,” I think. “I wonder if that’s…” and then he walks in. And wouldn’t you know it? I know the guy. And this is a guy I vowed to punch in the face the next time I saw him (not expecting to really see him again). See, the burning hatred stems from the time I put my hand through a window and nearly severed the tendon on my right index finger. I go into the ER, and instead of doing what a SMRAT doctor would do (which would be sending me straight to some specialists in Lexington), Dr Dale decides he can stitch it up himself and all will be fine. But all wasn’t fine! Oh no! I have a horrible sunken-assed scar that, eleven years later, still hurts like a motherfucker if I even just think about it. Seriously, you don’t even have to touch it to make it scream. It hurts just to think about. As a matter of fact, I feel like gnawing my knuckle off as we speak.
The good news is, I didn’t punch him in the face. The bad news is… I didn’t punch him in the face. But I guess I figured out why he did a shitty job on my hand. Maybe he just wasn’t used to working on that end. *ting!*
Haha, wow. Hello, world. Did you enjoy reading that?? *freak*