On the Road Again

Isn’t it just amazing how time just flies? It wasn’t so long ago that I was here, bitching about the scrub techs and the damn attendings who think you are furniture, sucking it up as I scrubbed my skin off my fingers and opened up pandora’s box of eczema, turning from ugly to uglier, exploding my little head to figure out what it was that I did wrong, again, coughing up a lung as I get the rod inserted and re-inserted in my rear end like every other day. And then there was the Oral exam I didn’t prepare for, scrambling to pull shit from my ass, which wasn’t all that forthcoming.

I am so glad it’s all over. Every day, I tell my rash that it is ok to go away now. Any day.

I have once again, for the fiftieth time, rolled up all my earthly possessions and stuffed them into my ’96 Saturn 2 door coup. She’s busting at the seams and if she were to hiccup, I would have to retrieve my underwear from the side of the I-95 as it meanders towards NYC.

As I leave this shit hole, which is Waterbury, I am painfully reminded of my parting words to the Chairman of the Department of Surgery as he imparts his mandatory words of wisdom.

“……I was at F&M trying to raise money for their College of Liberal Arts and Sciences,” the man who invented Total Parenteral Nutrition (fancy-stancy surgery thing) says.

“And, god bless the Chinese…” he turns to me and winks.
Somehow, I took these words as my cue to leave my lasting impression so the old man can remember the short, little chink, who thinks she is trying to make a dent.

“Don’t under estimate the Chinese,” I say, smiling from ear to ear, like a moron.
“….the Chinese are buying up so much steel that it now costs twice as much to build something.”

He was short of saying: “Those yellow bastards are taking all the country’s steel away to build their version of New York that it leaves us with no steel so the cost of steel has shot up so that it makes it harder for us to have our Liberal Arts building made. Damn m___th_r f__kers.”
It wasn’t like he was lauding their accomplishments or anything.

I try to sink into my shoes but my butt gets stuck because it insists on having me suffer through the stupidity of my pie-hole, which I should have shut, padlocked and thrown away the key.

I’m sure he will remember me now. Lucky for me, the old man has hearing aids and has a hard time picking up the frequency of my voice.

Se La Vi. I'll try not to let the door hit me on the way out