There aren’t too many things that make me feel angry anymore. After all the surgeries, the replacements, the needles stuck up and down my arms until there’s nothing left to poke, I just don’t have the energy to yell at people like I used to. Even that squirrel who continually chews through my internet cable isn’t worthy of much more than a balled up fist anymore. The doctors have also ceased to enrage me. I used to battle with them over every decision, every cut they wanted to make in me and every cell they wanted to remove. But I’m done arguing with them. For one, they don’t listen, and secondly, they don’t care. If I were to die they would dissect me like an animal, see if there was anything that could advance their careers in my carcass, and sew me back up, disappointed. But that’s just the way doctors are – it’s why they chose their profession to begin with. It’s not unlike the people I worked with all those years at the law office. They loved to pick at carcasses too – and I’ll admit it, I would cannibalize with the best of them. I loved nothing more than completely drying someone up in a settlement or bleeding someone in a divorce case. I didn’t care who got the money – it was the transfer that turned me on. But now with my own blood and life seeping out of me, bit by bit, surgery by surgery, it’s all feeling a little too literal.
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- The Huntington Ladies’ Book Club – February Meeting
- Pickle the Cheetah
- Karen the Personal Trainer
- Morton the Worm at the Usury Office
- My 5 Favorite Musicals and Why, By Carla Cioca:
- Mumu the Irrelevant Mime
- Tiny Tim – Post Revisted
- Ten Prior Moments that led Jenna to this Point:
- The O. Henry Affair
- Ben’s Night Out