The empty field

Whenever I have any sort of medical issue, I run it by my college sweetheart, Dr. Dawn Coyote. Of course, in college she was my favorite weed dealer, before we became entangled. That did not last nearly long enough, at least for me, but decisions were made and we created a friendship that was always better than what could have been.

I was recently in a terrible horse accident and I called Dr. Dawn Coyote for a second opinion. “What sort of horse accident are we talking about here,” she asked, with just the slightest bit of incredulity you can imagine.

“Regular horse accident, that sort of thing,” I said.

“O….K…..” She mumbled. “What are the injuries?”

“Broken fibula and two ribs,” I moaned into my cellphone, as I was still laid up in the emergency room.

“So what’s your issue?”

“Well, medically, I’m not sure what to do about those broken ribs, but legally, I mean if I were hit by a car, then I would sue the driver.”

“So medically, there’s not much we do for broken ribs. We don’t even rap them anymore. Some pain medication and you have to just man-up,” Dr. Coyote said, matter of factly.

“Man-up you say?” I asked.

“Yes, medically speaking, you don’t want to waste too much time taking pain medication. Just deal with the pain. Man-the-fuck-up. Now, I am not an attorney, but my understanding has always been that if you are hit by a car, generally speaking, the car driver is at fault. Was this horse driving a car?”

“That would be funny. No, the horse in question was standing in a field.”

“As a horse is want to do.”

“Obviously. So, one thing led to another and here I am, in what I am sure is going to be a very expensive medical experience”

“Don’t you have Obamacare?”

“Fuck that, I can’t afford Obamacare.”

“And yet there you are, in an expensive emergency room.”

“Free morphine.”

“Oh honey, you are in for a surprise about that free morphine,” she said, as the free morphine put me into a nice slumber.

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