Why Don't You Turn *Your* Head And Cough??

When violins are feeling particularly well, they declare themselves to be fit as a Feemus.

A horse with an especially robust constitution might say that he is healthy as a Feemus.

Through sheer dumb luck there's not much wrong with me. My joints are rotten and I'm allergic to everything, but other than that I'm hardly ever sick.

Which is a damn good thing because I HATE going to the doctor. I average about one visit every two years. I had to go last week for some required consultation about my allergy meds. There's some new HMO rule. Whatever.

So my doctor, who I quite like, decided for some reason to send me to an Ear Nose and Throat guy to make sure that some swelling he saw in my throat was indeed just hay fever related.

This afternoon I went to the ENT doctor. What a freaking sadist.

He wanted to stick an optic thingy up my nose and down my esophagus. I, on the other hand, would have preferred that he didn't. He was unamenable to compromise.

Out came the scope-on-a-rope. Up came my (entirely rational) defenses against having tubes threaded through my sinuses.

But I was cooperative. I did wince, though, when the scope seemed to stop moving through the nasal cavity and started boring up into my brain. It was excruciating. But I bit down and held still.

Until the doctor said: "This procedure doesn't hurt."

Oh really, doc? Well that's a huge fucking relief. I'm glad to know this blinding pain doesn't have anything to do with your procedure.

Stupid doctor.