Why Doctors Hate Me

I figured that even though I should be working, explaining this point won't take very long, and it's better than Chem. Then again, assault and battery seems better than Chemistry. At least the physical bruises heal. There are days I wonder if I'm traumatizing my brain. But I digress....

If I were doctor and had me as a patient, I'd probably hate me, too. For one, I hate doctors, and if I had to deal with the shit I've dished out in the past, I'd probably kick my own ass. That said, 90% of the time I'm in doctors' offices, it's not of my own volition. Selfish point being that if I'm not happy, I see no reason to make your life any better. Hopefully, the tension means they'll ask me to leave sooner. Doesn't hurt my feelings; go ahead: give my appointment to some twitching hypochondriac fidgeting in the waiting room while grasping a thermometer and print out from Web M.D. At least that person wants to hear you talk.

Another reason doctors don't care for me beyond the attitude is my habit of preterition and in several cases, downright misleading statements. See, if something hurts, I know they want to hit it. If I've been feeling tired, clearly it must be mono. I've had blood drawn so frequently at the doctors' that I'm convinced they must be either the most wasteful scientists or donating half to blood drives. There's no way they need that much blood. If I used that much material in my lab, my prof would (rightly) want to beat me over the head. I just want to get out of the office, preferably without a prescription and not see them ever again.