The nickname we have for the doctor who kind of went nutbag with my diagnosis over a year ago is in somewhat questionable taste, but it sure does make me and the old lady laugh and laugh. Really, I look back with something akin to gratitude, because while he his doctoring skills are way off in the crappy part of left field where he must spend a lot of his time searching for some bedside manner, his overreaction (for lack of a better word) did put me on somewhat of the straight and narrow. So… thanks for that.

I still wish I had my old doctor, but the ridiculous games the various health management organizations play (those same games that have all but destroyed private practice among decent physicians under the age of 50) chased him away. My new doctor is great. I have seen him a couple of times in the last year and he really doesn’t disappoint. But <blank> <blank> Charlie (again, the nickname is sort of in bad taste) really soured me on the medical profession. So much so that I was almost ready to but a couple medical texts and see if I could find an ekg machine for sale. You know, really embrace my personal medical health and say “screw you” to the establishment.

I mean, I still say “screw you” to the establishment, but I do so with a documented primary care physician. So… that’s a proper, adult decision, right?