**Warning: these entries may be graphic and, hopefully, frightening. Keep in mind this is merely fiction. No humans (or animals) have or will be harmed in the production of this blog. All names have been chosen at random and are not meant to represent anyone, living or dead. Any similarities are purely coincidental**
My follow-up appointment this morning was an outrage. Before Dr. Jenkins met with her untimely demise, I was referred to a specialist. He ordered nearly as many tests as his colleague and clearly he is just as useless. From here on out I will be referring to him as “Dick” because he’s hardly earned the respect to deserve the title doctor, or even “Doc”, and his last name looks like someone vomited alphabet soup on a prescription pad; so Dick it is. Dick proceeded to tell me that he doesn’t know what is wrong and “pain is subjective”. I wanted to ask him how subjective his pain would be if I jammed a chainsaw up his ass and started it up, but I suspect that might raise a red flag or two. Instead I smiled and said, “thank you” when he handed me a prescription for Ativan and suggested that perhaps I am experiencing too much stress.
Looks like Dick is going to be our next contestant on Doctors Must Die. I drove back this afternoon just before the office closed. After Dick got into his brand-new BMW and raced through the parking lot, I slowly tailed him. Offing Dick is going to be a bigger challenge. He lives in a gated community, guarded by private security. I relish the thought of honing my skills and branching out into uncharted territory but I need to do more research. More later…..