Paranoia and a hotdog
Went to the doctor! Tried out the private health insurance! I could barely swallow, and after three days I took my throat perdition to the clinic. Turns out I once again have something that will simply fix itself (although I got a prescription on spec, ha). Most importantly I triumphed over my inertia about using the medical system here - no small feat, since it involves agency upon agency vetting your problem and/or insurance coverage. Getting to see the doctor was maybe the 6th step, and as I left the clinic the front desk nurse stopped me and asked if I had a co-pay ("Huh?").
And the best part: I had to sign a certain Patient's Bill of Rights. Now, I worked in health policy long enough (yes) to figure out that that in fact enumerates all of the things they are allowed to do to you. And apparently, in New York state, your doctor's office "may disclose your health information to authorized federal officials who are conducting national security and intelligence activities or providing protective services to the President or other important officials." The President, you say!
I celebrated my prognosis with a chili cheese dog and buying some ramekins at Bed Bath & Beyond.
3 comments:
I don't normally associate friends with kitchen items, but you, m'dear are very closely associated with ramekins. I have never known anyone else to use them as often.
Signing the papers entitles the president to wire tap your teeth. But I wouldn't be surprised if he reads your blog anyway.
Soufflé! Mousse! Baked eggs! Individual apple crisps!
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