My Doctor is a Bitch


Hitting 30 is not that big of a deal. I mean it’s going to be a bit shitty but only because it’s going to be the point where I realise I’ve wasted the last ten years getting drunk and doing recreational drugs BUT it’s not terrible. The Boston Bombings, the coffee at work and my phone signal at home, that’s terrible.

Reaching 30 is just kind of…’meh’. And I don’t want this to be a stupid post about obviously grim hitting 30 is, most of my friends are already there and they’re fine….alcoholism and adultery aside.

What really pisses me off, and it’s already started to happen and I’m over a year away from it yet, is having to go to the Doctor and her not caring any more.

I hurt my shoulder playing football a few weeks ago and went to the local clinic thing.. (I actually went because of problem a little south of this but I figured I’d bring this up too). And I said “I think I might have pulled something in my shoulder, there anything you can do?”

She goes  “not really, this kind of thing will just happen from now on”

If I was 19 (or had Bupa) she’d reconstruct it out of steel and put lasers on it and stuff but no. This is just going to “happen” from now on. I’m 29! It might just be her, she asks if I smoke every time I go. And I do, but I lie to her. But only because she asks me in such a condescending way, like a Jewish Grandmother. “are you smoking Andrew?” I’m like “NO!?” (dead surprised she’s even accused me of it). Anyway screw her, all the cool kids have Emphysema.

So my shoulder still hurts….she gave me some cream for the other thing.


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