It’s Wednesday a dark and stormy night. You’re sitting around in your underpants lingerie after a good long workout, enjoying a cup of Dr. Oz’s “miraculous wunderdrug” green tea and lazily browsing the Internet. This is the first time in your life you’ve had anything but dial-up, and the novelty of opening up your browser and being instantly connected to porn the people who really care about you has not worn off yet. Sweet civilization, you sigh contentedly. You head on over to your favorite blog and re-read something so great that it puts you in the mood to remove aforementioned underpants and click your way over to one of those sexy adult websites. However, you suppress the urge, since you might want to run for office some day and you can’t do anything to compromise that.
Suddenly the phone rings, thus breaking the Interweb’s lusty spell over you. It’s your mother. You answer, and within two minutes of listening to her jump from subject to subject like a crack-addled Robin Williams, you can tell that she’s back on prednisone.
Your mother asks you a bunch of medical questions. She almost goes into a ‘roid rage when you say you must put her on hold briefly because your sister is calling. Sister is wondering if she has a UTI. She describes her symptoms and you say yes,it sounds like a UTI, provided UTI stands for ugly titty injection. You can hear Sister rolling her eyes over the phone. “That doesn’t even make sense,” she says. You nod thoughtfully.
Later that evening a friend calls, wondering if something “down there” is a pimple or a herpe. 45 minutes and a trip across town later, your friend sighs with unbridled relief when you look up and nod your head definitively. “Pimple.”
It would be a big fat dirty lie if you said you didn’t enjoy dishing out health advice to people who probably won’t sue you for going way outside your scope of practice. If the fact that these people are your close friends and blood relatives isn’t enough to prevent law suits, the fact that you have potentially career-ending blackmail photos of pretty much everyone in your life will. Mua ha ha hahaha ha!
Still, you’re losing a lot of gas money driving around town to look at all of your friends Unidentified Genital Objects (UGO). “I should just start a blog,” you say to yourself.
The next day you receive a text message from Toxic Culture. “You should start a health care blog,” says a member T.C.’s damages award-winning legal team. Your fate has been decided.
You begin your blog career with a post so amazing that you have a difficult time bringing yourself back down to the level of normal people afterwards. Still, your blog is not receiving any traffic, or so claims the evil graph widget necrotizing the lower right corner of your “dashboard” (you wonder if Vanco will kill that thing?). Still, the question remains. Why isn’t anyone witnessing your soon to be posted nude photos brilliant prose? You are so desperate for readers that you briefly consider teaching your mother how to use the Internet. Then you wonder–the lack of customers couldn’t be because you’ve got competition, could it? I mean, it’s only 2009—the Internet is a virgin landscape like Manahatta circa 1492 and health care is such a fringe topic! Still, you decide to go sleuthing around in search of any leeches squatting on your turf. God, is even the Internet socialist now?!?!?!?!
At first, you can’t decide whether to be dismayed or delighted by what you find. Encouraged or slandered? Amused or moved? Do you laugh until you pee yourself or vomit at the thought that someone like this is responsible for human lives? You can’t help but wonder if Shadowfax is cute. He sounds cute, right? Hell, he could weigh 300 pounds and have zits all over his face and you’d still be interested (no offense to his lovely wife and three beautiful children. The author of this blog is not an actual person, anyways. She’s a construct of the ether.) You wish that Kim would teach you everything she knows, because you’ve secretly always wanted to be wise-crackin’, EtOHer-regulatin’ ER nurse, and you wish that urethra-diving badass Keagirl would post again already it’s been since April c’mon already geeze! You’re proud of Nursing’s own Amy Goodman, and there are countless others who have already made a major impression on you in the few short days you’ve known them. In any event, you realize that the bar has been set high (except here), and that you’re going to have to step it up and bring your A game–and peer-reviewed journals–and “surgical” lube— to hash it out with some of the good ol’ boys. No more screwing around. Your pocket is full of flushes and you’ve got your Lifesaving Foley in tow….
Welcome to my needle-exchange van clinic, team.