When Your Doc Is A Quack

If you haven’t read the post from yesterday and or don’t know where to find the others I don’t know what to tell you other than I am in a take-no-prisoners kind of mood.

Not sure if that’s particularly different from my normal mood but maybe it is and maybe it is not.

Either way I am prepared to tell you when I think your doctor is a quack and that you won’t impress me by saying you went to medical school.

I could have done it. I am easily smart and capable enough to handle it and could do it now or then had I chosen to.

You don’t earn my respect with titles but through action and while I have admiration for many docs I don’t have it for all.

That title doesn’t make you any better or any worse than any other person.

You can still be a complete and utter asshole with few redeeming qualities other than you might be less likely to pass out bad medical advice.

Which is to say some of you prove the importance of staying in your lane because your partisanship prevents you from a providing a proper diagnosis.


You Can Call Me

A few people have confided in me and said they are worried about the present and asked me why I am not more upset.

Every time they ask I tell them I am built for the storm and that I remember a time when I lost my house, had a sister who was deathly ill and then a brother-in-law all within months of each other.

I have been through enough hard times that I sometimes forget how many I have survived and how those experiences have changed me

You will find many others who have been through harder and many who are still fighting harder battles.

I don’t need nor want to win the fight of who has it tougher.

But sometimes I remind myself of the bad moments and the hard times because it balances me and gives me perspective.

It is no different than saying I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley or reciting any of the other silent mantras I sometimes call upon to get me through the moments.

And so I come to this place where I say I have no answers other than faith there will be daylight on the other side of the storm and that I am good at some things.

I can write. I can tell stories. I give great hugs. I can stand my ground and push forward under almost any circumstance cuz I don’t know any other way to be.

Blame it on ego, stupidity, tenacity or all three.

Doesn’t matter.

So when the few people ask me how I can do this I say you can call me because I am really not doing it alone.

I suppose I could if I had to because I have enough responsibility to motivate me and because I would find a way to see it as a challenge.

It frankly is easier than dieting to me to push through this shit so I just do.

If I offer to be your rock and say you can lean on me or call me I mean it. I don’t and won’t offer to just anyone.

Questions & Answers

I have a million questions and not nearly enough answers.

My Facebook feed and email are a mix of narishkeit, horror and happy stuff.

People pushing and milling about with the wind and the tide. Spent more money on eggs and assorted food items than I normally would because the fancy supermarket had some stuff and very few people.

Figured it made sense to get in and out. Washed myself thoroughly and relied upon luck, force of will and a constitution that has been pretty strong to keep me going.

Told the kids I haven’t ever seen anything like this and that one day it will be a hell of a story. Told them how their great-grandparents told me stories about the Depression and how if you live a life you are bound to have a few tales.

Didn’t tell them that I expect that some of the tales we hear about this time will not be pleasant, happy or fun.

Didn’t tell them I very selfishly hope those tales belong to others because maybe luck will smile upon us and we won’t have personal knowledge or experience.

Have to wait and see because we’ll get through this one day at a time and maybe, just maybe we’ll know more stories about people rising to the occasion than falling.


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