Current mood:	infuriated
Current music:	TV background noise

A Horrible Thrashing To Be
I am officially sick of every fucking medical professional in this state, human or vet alike. I am done, DONE with each and every one of you greedy, whorish, callous, uncooperative, self-serving, wallet-raping, piles of worm-riddled shit to ever win an M.D. You wanna know what's ruining health care for everyone? Doctors. We need a series of overqualified nurses and physician's aides running shit for the rest of America's foreseeable life-span. And they will not run it for big bucks. They will be working for fucking SCALE because they enjoy their job, not their pay.

Doctors and I don't get along. Maybe its because one gave me diabetes. Maybe its because one killed my grandfather through carelessness and trying to cover his own ass. Maybe I just don't like white coats. But I know that if I found a hole with 800,000 dead doctors lying in various states of brutal dismemberment after being raped by alligators, I would think that the hole was not full enough.

The doctors have chosen to fuck with me on a personal level today, and I am not fucking standing for this.

My dog is scheduled already for a fairly expensive surgery on Monday. It is not a cheap process, even though it should be. We're talking used car money here. For something involving less than a thousand bucks worth of medical equipment.

Now, the complex we take him to, a massive vet consortium of surgical, residential, and emergency offices, knows we have this surgery coming up. They know we are paying them an arm and a fucking leg. So imagine my surprise when we have to take the already-known-to-be-sick small dog in to get the excess fluid drained out of his chest like we did 36 hours ago at the same complex, just over at the ER side?

A grand.

You knew, YOU KNEW I was already struggling to get cash lined up to pay for this procedure, and you charge me a fucking thousand extra for a 12 hour stay to make sure he lives to see it? Fuck you, fuck your kind, fuck any spawn you may have produced from your cursed loins of disease and miserly ways. Compassion, fuck, even understanding, is completely lost on you and yours. I could put a gun to your head and demand that you try to describe how you would feel if a friend was dying, and you wouldn't be able to do it, would you shit-heel? You just can't empathize when there's money to be made.

What's worse, you're infectious. You pass your callousness and lack of ethics to the financially bound who run out of hope, jading them to any other hardships they might face regarding medical emergency. You tell them it's better not to try if you don't have the credit score for something. You are murderers of hope, and you spit on the lives of the living.

I'll be honest with you, folks. Jude hasn't been this pissed in awhile, not since his birthday earlier this year. If they decide to keep upping the price tag on this for me, you'll be seeing me pulling a John Q on the news. Hang tough, and eat an apple a day. It keeps away pricks.