Hospitals

10 May

The most attractive thing about being ripped to shreds in one-eighth of a second, is avoiding the requisite trip to the hospital. To the operating room. Intensive care. Hospice. Any of that and all of that. And if you can set it up so that you could do it live, on pay-per-view television, then you’ve blasted two hummingbirds with one large stone. You end a contemptuous farce of a life, and you validate your former miserable, anonymous existence by turning into sellable, viable, astronomically-rated product: a high Q-score. You’re on television. And that’s the only thing that counts. It doesn’t matter why or how. It’s as much a compulsive habit as pornography.
Cigarettes.
Heroin.
D-ball.
Internet.
Narcissism as hopeless addiction. My caseworker says there are people specializing in treating that. I say, what. Say what?
Narkisos. Thank you, Ovid.
I’m not perfect. Everyone has a weak side.
My advanced directive: do not cut open the body. Though now it will be obsolete, the piece of signed and notarized paper. I loathe hospitals.
Staphylococcus aureus.
That spherical bacterium, frequently living on the skin or in the nose of a healthy person, that can cause a range of illnesses from minor skin infections (such as pimples, boils, and cellulitis) and abscesses, to life-threatening diseases such as pneumonia, meningitis, endocarditis, Toxic shock syndrome, and septicemia.
Before my mother put a proper hole in her chest with the family carbine, she submitted to the medical version of strapping a grenade to your breast and pulling the pin.
Double mastectomy.
The night-shift nurse withheld her Demerol for the first 12 hours, hoarding the medication for a later sale down U-Street Cardozo to some depressed housewife from the suburbs, driving an E-Class. There was no placebo effect and the carved out cancer-patient endured a shift’s worth of excruciating pain. It was proven in a court of law.
Thank you, but no thank you.
Wire: Innocent and in a sense I am guilty of the crime that’s now in hand.
How I feel is, Gram-positive.

Advertisements

8 Responses to “Hospitals”

  1. Dwacon 10/05/2007 at 2:28 PM #

    Yikes! That is so sad.

  2. Tisha! 10/05/2007 at 5:11 PM #

    shoo still recovering from that one!

    shock therapy

  3. Anonymous 10/05/2007 at 5:41 PM #

    i don’t even know..202

  4. sir jorge 10/05/2007 at 11:49 PM #

    Hospitals scare me.

  5. Rachel 11/05/2007 at 2:40 AM #

    They scare me too.

  6. Lx 11/05/2007 at 10:33 AM #

    dwacon, what is?

    tisha, i loathe being electrocuted

    202, neither do i

    sir jorge, me three

    rachel, me four

  7. Tisha! 11/05/2007 at 12:02 PM #

    so do I, twice so far…somewhat fun

  8. JaneDoughnut 12/05/2007 at 12:34 AM #

    I’d like to go out with some drama. I’m hoping to be hit by an asteroid. Smallish if possible, so it doesn’t kill the neighbors.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: