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You know, I went to see the doctor the other day. Let me tell you, those doctor’s waiting rooms are like the Bermuda Triangle of time. You go in there, and suddenly, you're in a time warp. It’s like a black hole. You walk in at 10 a.m., and before you know it, it’s 3 p.m., and you're still holding that magazine from 2007 wondering, “Has anyone ever actually finished one of these?” But I’ve noticed something about doctors. They have this magical ability to make you feel guilty about every unhealthy choice you’ve ever made in your life. It's like a superpower! They'll look at your chart and be like, "Oh, I see here you had a slice of pizza last week. That's why your left pinky toe is acting up!"
And then they give you these instructions. You go in for a cough, and suddenly they’re telling you to do yoga in the morning, eat kale for lunch, run a marathon on the weekends, and, oh yeah, try to stress less. Sure, Doc, let me just rearrange my entire existence for that!
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The doctor's office is like entering a parallel universe. You sit there, staring at the anatomy chart on the wall, wondering if the doctor has a hidden camera watching you figure out if that's a spleen or a cauliflower. And then there are those moments when the doctor leaves you alone in the room. They’ll tell you, “Just make yourself comfortable, the doctor will be in shortly.” So there you are, sitting on the examination table in that paper gown that's designed by the same people who make tissue paper. You try to fold it just right, but it's like trying to wrap a present with aluminum foil - impossible!
But the worst part is when the doctor finally walks in and you're mid-Google search on your symptoms. You try to close your phone so fast, but it’s like playing hide-and-seek with a ninja. “Oh no, I wasn’t trying to self-diagnose, Doc. I was just… playing a game of medical bingo!”
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I swear, doctors have this secret language they use. It’s like they've got a codebook we're not privy to. You walk in with a simple problem, and suddenly, they're speaking in hieroglyphics. They'll be like, "Well, it seems your problem might be due to a disruption in the equilibrium of your humors." And I’m there thinking, “Are we talking about a cold or summoning spirits from the underworld?”
And have you noticed how doctors have the most unreadable handwriting known to humanity? You walk out with a prescription that looks like it’s written in ancient Sanskrit. You take it to the pharmacist, and they’re playing pharmacist charades, trying to decipher if it says “take two pills” or “summon a unicorn.”
But you know, despite all that, we trust them blindly. They could tell us to eat dirt, and we’d be out there digging up the garden. “But Doc said it's good for my gut flora!”
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You know, doctors hand out prescriptions like they’re Oprah giving away cars. “You get a prescription, you get a prescription, everybody gets a prescription!” But sometimes, it feels like they’re playing a guessing game. You tell them about your sore throat, and suddenly, they’re prescribing you medication that lists side effects longer than the terms and conditions on an iTunes update. It’s like, “Sure, take this for your throat, but just a heads up, you might grow a second head or start speaking in pirate language.”
And the best part? They give you this medication, and then they tell you, “Oh, but avoid sunlight.” So basically, I’m supposed to hibernate in a cave until this clears up? I’m not a vampire, Doc!
But hey, I do appreciate their effort. They’re doing their best, trying to fix us up. Even if it means a little trial and error... or growing a second head.
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