Tag Archives: health care

My Trip to the Doctor

24 Feb

For whatever reason, God hates us. God hates Texas. He throws wave after wave of unpredictable weather our way, leaving it up to us to tough it out as our allergies and seasonal sicknesses run rampant, to keep our own chins above the sea of mucus that we all must ride for the winter/spring/summer/you know what really all the seasons.

I’ve been struck by the big, heavy hand of the congestion monster. I went to the doctor.

“I don’t feel so good,” I tell the woman on the phone. The woman is a receptionist at my doctor’s office.

“All right…” she says. “Who is this?”

“This is Kyle. When can we meet?” Every time I make an appointment, I like to use the question “When can we meet?” It’s much more intimate, and so unabashedly audacious that it intimidates the person on the other line into immediately meeting my needs. They’re afraid. They’re afraid of when we can meet.

“Doctor Earnhart wants to–” She’s interrupted by a voice in the background. It’s a man’s voice. He’s asking who she’s talking to. I hear him reference “That guy who’s always asking when he can meet with people.”

“Hello?” I say into the receiver.

“Yes. Mr. Irion, Dr. Earnhart is only available at his Ovilla Road office now. Would you like me to make you an appointment at that office?”

“Are you going to be there?” I ask, crossing my legs and blushing into the phone. My coyness is all over the phone.

“Um, no. I don’t work there. I work at the Main St. office–here–here at the office you called just now.”

“You’re such a sassy little ferret,” I say. I’m horrible at pet names as well as come-ons, as displayed with this next remark: “Why don’t I come down there and let you tape me to someone’s head?”

I hear the nurse sigh. “Dr. Earnhart will see you at nine thirty tomorrow morning at 874 Ovilla Road. Can you make that?”

“Oh yea, corn-ears. Can you let me slip my cotton gin into your–” There’s a click and dial tone. So playful.

The next day is blanketed in whiteness as flurries of snow flakes fall. I walk out of my door, trot to my car, and drive to the veterinarian’s office.

I reach the Ovilla office and pull into the parking lot. I’m surprised to see stables in the back of the new office. I approach the entrance and pull back a thin, battered door to see  a waiting room that is filled with a staggeringly high population of blind people–all holding tight to their seeing-eye dogs and their seeing-eye cats and their seeing-eye rabbits in boxes. There’s a woman in the corner cooing to her seeing-eye lizard, which is staring blankly at her from a plastic container. She has wispy gray hair and her skin seems to hang from her frame as if it were made for a much larger woman. I sit next to her.

“Where’s your animal, young man?” she asks me.

“My animal? I didn’t bring an animal. I’m not blind,” I say.

“Obviously not–you see me.” She smiles to reveal only a handful of decaying yellow teeth that run along her gums like old gravestones.  I jerk to the back of my chair as a pang of fear erupts in my gut.

“How do you know I’m looking at you?” I ask. I reach my hand out and wave it in front of her glassy, cataractous eyes.

“Oh young man, you’re so silly. These eyes may not be brand new, but they still serve me well enough to see you.”

“To be real honest with you, lady, I think you’re full of shit, but since you kind of look like a scarier, dead version of my grandma, I forgive you for lying to me without you even asking.” I stand up and go to sign in with the receptionist.

A few minutes later, I’m called into the back by a burly, tomato-shaped man I’ve never seen before. His eyes point in different directions and his mustache has the frantic appearance of steel wool. “Hey-lo young man. Earnhart told me I was supposed to see you today. Come on back!”

I follow him down a rank and poorly-lit corridor. The floors are of linoleum and as I step across it I feel a thin layer of grit scraping my feet. We enter a small examination room with a large metal table at its center. More linoleum counters. There’s a small scale in the corner of the room. He lifts it and places it on the table.

“Hop up,” he says.

“No?” I say.

“Oh, come now,” he says, stepping forward and placing both hands on the table.

“Yea…Still no. Yea, I’m not getting on this ta–”

He reaches out and grabs me by the scruff of my neck. I hate being treated like an animal, and I start to tell him so, but ruin any case I have when I inadvertently hiss and claw at him.

He weighs me.

“Well, you’ve maxed out the scale!” He laughs a phlegmy, wheezing laugh. “Looks like I’m just going to have to guess your weight.” He writes down 8 lbs. and pulls me down off the scale, but doesn’t let me get down from the table. “It’s time to take your temperature,” he says.

I open my mouth.

“No sir, this ain’t that kind of temperature. Now drop ’em.”

All is darkness

All is cold.

He puts a thermometer in my butt hole.

I walk out into the cold February air feeling hollow–feeling as though I’ve been gutted of something precious and essential. I turn my face to the sky, then pop two or three of the heart-worm pills the doctor gave me.

The End.

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Wolverine vs. Barack Obama in a Battle for Your Health.

20 Aug

I like being healthy. It pisses me the hell off when I find out I have illness. I remember one time a doctor told me I had an inner ear infection and I ended up slashing his tires and writing “Stick this in yer ear” on his windshield with shoe polish. It was really embarrassing when I had to go in later because I left my phone on the table, but still totally worth it. All that being said, being healthy and having good preventative medicine is really important to me. I understand, however, that people will still need medical care occasionally for things that preventative medicine cannot avert. It’s this reality that makes proper health care a must.

Some people–people like me and my dad–don’t need a whole lot of medicine. We hardly need any medical care at all. It’s easy for people like us, the genetically healthy (mutants), to say “Listen, I don’t care a whole lot for medical insurance or who’s payin’ for it. I just don’t care.” It’s also easy for these people to get clawed in the face by my dad.

Me and the ol' man last thanksgiving.

Me and the ol' man last Thanksgiving.We're thankful for rust remover.

Some people, however, can’t help but get sick. And unfortunately, it just so happens that some people who get sick can’t afford the medical care they need. Some can’t even afford to see the doctor so that he can tell them they can’t afford the medicine they need. How do we remedy this? Free health care? Perhaps, but perhaps not. (See, that’s how I sound intelligent without actually saying anything at all.)

I admittedly know practically nothing about the debate over private and public health insurance. So, I contacted my sources (Wikipedia, my brother Nick, MTV), and got some more information.

The 8 principles of Obama’s health plan are to:

  1. Better utilize technology to provide faster access to medical records. There is also a proposal for the President to finance a plan to get stupid freaking Facebook Chat to work. (“‘No longer online?’ They were midsentence! They still have a speech bubble!”)
  2. Support research into treatment comparisons so doctors and patients have a better idea of what specific path would be best for them.
  3. Double cancer research funding, including a $6 billion injection (medical pun) to National Health Institutes.
  4. Improve services for American Indians and Alaskan Natives (Eskimos, Snow Men).
  5. Recruit more into the medical health fields, including $331 million for doctors, nurses, dentists, etc. in areas of shortage.
  6. Expand child care plans such as “Early Head Start” and “Head Start” and create new programs to support first time mothers.
  7. Improve Medicare, the government insurance program for seniors.
  8. Give the FDA a big ol’ money vitamin (1 billion milligrams) to support more inspections and aid in the creation of new labs for the surveillance of what President Obama refers to as “food terrorists,” or “germs.”

These all sound great. The proposed cost for the American tax-payer will be roughly $630 billion over 10 years. That’s a lot of clams. That’s a lot of beans. That’s a lot of bucks, dubloons, cash, change, currency, baby fists. I made the last one up.

Detractors of this plan claim that it would provide a hefty price tax-wise The reason this plan will be so expensive for each individual tax payer is that each one of us will be paying for every other citizen’s use of EVERY available medical treatment–from in-vitro fertilization to mental health benefits–treatments that are much more expensive any procedure most people usually pay for.

It would also force all citizens to pay the same for their medical insurance in spite of their level of risk. For instance, in the current insurance game, a guy like me– a guy with a mutant healing ability–would have a substantially lower monthly payment because I’m at lower risk of actually needing to draw from my fund. Other people–the elderly, people who juggle fire, or people who mess with me and my dad–are at a higher risk of injury and thus required to pay more because of the higher probability of them actually using the insurance money. With Yomama’s plan, everybody would pay the same, so young people would be TOTALLY JIPPED LIKE WTF GOD, MOM! I, a specimen of human excellence, would pay the same as that old guy I saw at IHOP with the weird foot problem. Disgusting. I don’t want the government seeing us in the same way. We aren’t the same. I can jump.

Some say there’s a danger that Americans will over-consume this “free healthcare,” driving up taxes, making the plan actually more expensive than before. Other say th…

This sucks.

Let’s do something more fun. Look at this!

WOOHOOOO! HEALTH!

WOOHOOOO! HEALTH!

There are a lot of things Obama wants to implement that the liberal media isn’t reporting. Check THIS out:

Pictured on right: Grandpa. Pictured on left: Sacrifice to the Socialist Overlord.

Pictured on right: Grandpa. Pictured on left: Sacrifice to the Socialist Overlord.

Washington insiders say that, being under heavy pressure from his constituency (America), Barack has looked to alternatives to private vs. public medical insurance. One anonymous source has told IronKyle Editor that at a recent meeting with the Surgeon General, Barack tossed out the entirety of the U.S. Medical Research heads, screaming about a strong demand for unicorn blood. Michelle Obama quickly saw to the removal of all media related to the J.K. Rowling series, Harry Potter, from the White House. No matter how futile his search may be, the message is clear: Barack Obama wants to harvest the blood of beautiful Unicorns to help the sick. Gross. Have you ever seen a sick person? Do you ever see Lisa Frank putting sick people on her stationary? No. Do you see beautiful paintings of sick people being ridden by ancient Greek gods? No, that’s silly. Sick people are weak and complain too much for that.

Whatever Obama wants, we must be weary. There’s word that no one can find a valid birth certificate for Barack. Could this be because he’s not even from Earth? How could he possibly understand the plight of the human form if he isn’t even human. Think about it. Have you ever seen him get sick? Do you ever see him and Superman at the same place at the same time? Absolutely not.

Oh. All right, well nevermind on that.

Oh. All right, well never mind, then.

Wherever this debate ends up, with price locks and heavily-regulated, socialistic governmental control of the medical industry or a completely free-market, private system similar to the one we already have, we should try to  remember that we’re all in this together and that nobody’s out to ruin America. That’s just ridiculous. Come on, people now. Smile on your brother. Everybody, get together. Try to love one another right now.

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