There was conflict today at the doctors’ office. I was the conflict. When Im telling a tale in person I’m like I am when telling a tale on the white screen only more so. Tales have conflict. It is poor social etiquette to tell a tale without any tale to it, e.g. I went to office, I said Hi, Dude said hi, we asked how the other was doing, discussed things and shook hands. Though that is how ninety nine percent of things work. It happens politely, predictably, without incident.
Um, the smart money wouldn’t have bet on today going without incident, even without the foreknowledge that my head is killing me and I was, am, in a foul mood. I went to the appointment despite all that to bitch about the stupid SSRI and to tell them I was done. Foul mood plus righteous indignation.
The moment where I went on a rant though was one of those things you rarely get, a meaty fast ball dead center strike zone. I was bitching about the contract I’m under not holding them to any obligation or respondsibility. The guy said, as though a campy line in a super hero movie, that he was held to a higher contract (campy, warned ya) and he started quoting the Hippocratic oath the way some quote the bible — just the parts he liked. I said when I have a copy of that signed and in a file in my desk then we are even. It got conflictier from there and pretty much was twenty minutes of ‘you can’t fire me, I quit’ and ‘you can’t quit, I fired you.’
To be fair I liked this guy the best, but, also to be accurate, I’ve never seen the same person twice at that fucking place. My head hurts.
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