Dr. Douglas Celvine, May 31st 7:15am:
I quickly shook that thought away after realizing how both disgusting that image was and how I only had a half day of work today.
Private practice had it's benefits, the money mostly. Also there was making up my own hours, cancelling appointments (most of the time it's just because I don't want to have to deal with that specific patient), take as long of a lunch break as I'd like, oh and the money.
Private practice can actually be a pain in the ass without a good nursing staff or a decent secretary.
With the magnificent lies my secretary tells my wife as well as the way she can completely rearrange a schedule without a moment's hesitation if I'd prefer to not see a patient on a given day, or if I can't get around an appointment it's important to have a team of nurses that will make sure to each individually go into the patient's rooms and ask them what the problem was every single time they walk in--even if they walk in twice.
This both irritates the patient and confuses them utterly after the third or fourth nurse.
After the seventh nurse leaves the patient waits for roughly forty-five minutes to an hour while myself and one of my lovely young nurses, or possibly several of them, fool around in my back office. By the time I enter the patient's room and ask him what the problem is while staring utterly confused at the clipboard in front of me, they're so thrown off that the barely describe anything wrong with them.
This scenario ends with me checking their lungs, heartbeat, nose, eyes, throat and ears.
After that I kick them right out with whatever prescription they'd like and a recommendation to call an ambulance if they feel like they're dying.
Fuck, I wish I cared.
Really, I do.
I actually became a doctor because I felt I could make a difference.
I thought I could change the trend of doctors treating a problem instead of preventing one.
I thought I could help push legislature forward to change the way the medical field does their business.
I discovered that even if one triple digits doctor doesn't care about the money he's making, it doesn't make everyone listen to you, in fact it makes you even more suspicious.
I'll put it this way: there isn't a single person in the United States of America that thinks the public school system is a phenomenal program.
In fact there isn't a single person that thinks it's even remotely decent of a program.
Yet it keeps getting worse.
Nothing anyone's doing is helping, because the only people able to actually make these changes are highly ignorant.
Stupid no, uneducated no, ignorant yes.
Most of the people in congress or any of the government running political divisions are very well educated in top colleges.
Therein lies the problem.
Even if someone graduates from a great college with the mindset that they'll never stop learning, they do, rather quickly.
And they don't know that's what they're doing.
They think they ARE educated, even though people like Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking, Issac Newton, Galileo, Da Vinci--the people who are the true minds behind our civilization--were constantly admitting fault in a previous statement or learning from mistakes.
With someone who consistently feels like they have a leg up on the rest of the population due to an Ivy League degree, they believe themselves less capable of making a mistake, that less capable eventually becomes incapable, which spins around on itself to become "always right."
Try and tell a judge of the supreme court that they're wrong,
I dare you.
So these stubborn assholes are the ones trying to use all their brainpower to put together something that would fix the problems we're facing, only instead of thinking about what would work and reading recent studies on large-scale reactions to different types of changes in bureaucracy--they think about the fact that they themselves may be able to solve the problems of today, that they themselves were that great.
Read the entire bill for the Obama Health Care Bill, you'll see what I mean, it becomes sentence after sentence of nonsense for the sole purpose of someone saying, "you definitely need to sign this bill, it solves all our problems, I wrote it."
That's what I discovered when I was young and tried to change things.
In truth I'm still the same person,
and my goal still is to fix the current problems with the medical system.
The end is the same as it's always been, the plan for how to reach that goal has shifted significantly.
Around the time I was nearly ready for work I started thinking more about going into work for four hours,
only I remembered it was actually three due to my lunch hour,
and then I remembered I can take as long a lunch as I'd like,
and then I remembered my RN can take care of patients if I'm unavailable,
and then I remembered what I was taking half the day off for, and I thought:
They can fend for themselves.
So I dropped my daughter Maddy off at Flornsdale Private Educational Institute (I would never dare let my daughter step foot in a public shithole considering I have the money to avoid it), and then I stopped at a gas station and made sure the storage compartment underneath the backseat of my car was empty.
Then I headed off, one hundred ninety-three miles southwest to a little town called Sherliche.
There I was to go to a place known to a constantly growing amount of people as The Dream Palace.
And meet Marten Falco, proprietor of the blessed palace.
The purpose of my trip:
Purchasing my very first sex slave...