Met My Quota

Stuck in another doctor’s office listening to Christmas music on repeat, wishing I could be somewhere, anywhere else. But this is the price I pay for living a reckless sinful life. Shit wears out I suppose, so I’m spending the latter half of my life in perpetual maintenance mode. I don’t mean to sound so cynical of this whole process. But after some four different appointments with three different doctors the last 30 days I think I’ve met my quota.

I don’t know why I even bother telling anyone about this, I’m more than certain everyone’s got troubles of their own. I guess it’s to show that we have some camaraderie in this human condition. I watch the news and read the morning paper. In them I either find myself getting pissed or laughing at what I see. It’s either things that are so obvious that anyone with common sense can see right through it. I personally don’t believe in conspiracy theories. I don’t think anyone is that clever. But if you see a bunch standing around and they claim they saw nothing. Usually that means they’re lying to cover their ass.
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Still I sit here and wait on my nurse practitioner. My blood pressures been checked, along with my glucose levels, and my A1C. There’s no doubt I enjoy living, mainly because my NP is very happy with my test results. Apparently I’m one of only few patients that does what their told. But all and all it just takes is a little common sense; a lot less paranoia and even less following the crowd. But what can I say, we all got troubles of our own.