February 19, 2009

Stop the presses. I have an important announcement. It is with the great pleasure to announce that I do not have the common cold. I have a very bad case of Bronchitis, I am so happy. If I had the strength, I would do the happy dance, between my coughing and wheezing. You see Mrs. Raballard was not 100% right. When I informed her I had the Bubonic Plague, she insisted I had a common cold, not I had Bronchitis. She didn’t even mention the possibility of something other than the cold. Ok maybe she mentioned the possibility of Bronchitis a few days later. I am excited Mrs. Raballard was semi-wrong.

I had another appointment with my family physician today. However, I chose to go to Dr. Pepper’s partner Dr. My Eyes. It is not that I don’t trust Dr. Pepper, he is an adequate doctor. He was unavailable, so I settled on Dr. My Eyes, although I had never seen him before.

I arrived at my appointment on time (no shock there), as I was the only patient, my wait time was short.

My turn came in a matter of minutes. This time the receptionist weighed me, well kind of. Seems as if the receptionist made extra money as a Carney, she took one look at me and guessed my weight within 3 pounds. I was then taken to an examining room and told I would be seen shortly.

I barely had time to sneak in a decent nap when the door opened, followed by Nurse Sue E Ryhmes, she felt my biceps and declared my blood pressure was slightly higher than it should be. She left as quickly as she entered.

I was in the middle of a coughing fit when the door burst open. Dr. My Eyes goose-stepped into the room. He placed his dangling monocle into his left eye. “Ve don't need to examine you, do ve. I see notzzingkt. You haf Brunkhitus” He took a quick look at my file, and then slammed it shut. “I see you haf been gifen a Antibiotic, goot. You haf been takingkt your medicine hafn't you? Ve haf vays uff makingkt you take your medicine.”

I assured him I had been taking my medicine on a regular basis. The doctor looked at me with suspicion, snapped his feet together and gave me a curt salute. “Gutten Tag. Herr Raballard.”

My appointment was now officially over, I was free to escape,

I have Bronchitis, there is a cure, and I will survive. However, Mrs. Raballard might not be able to live this mistake down. She was semi-wrong I was semi-right. For those at home keeping score, she is still right 99.999999999999% of the time.