I need a vacation ...

... or smarter patients.

Overweight, 39 year old, stupid female patient (whom I will now refer to as O39S) comes in today for a pre-operative physical exam and clearance for surgery.

Gastric bypass surgery.

I've known O39S for several years. She's an out-of-control diabetic with hypothyroidism who is on disability because she has some weakness in her left arm from a workman compensation accident 10 years ago. She broke her arm in several places because she was too lazy to get the ladder at her warehouse job and she decided to climb the 15 foot shelves, which promptly collapsed under her enormous girth. So she sued the company and filed for disability and some idiotic doc signed off on all of this.

I'm not shitting you.

Anyway, she never does what I tell her to do - lose weight, check her blood sugar, stop smoking, stop sleeping with drug users, stop driving drunk, stop selling your thyroid medicine to your nieces as a "weight loss pill"; the list goes on and on.

So, today, she's all smiles and giggles. She was cleared for bariatric surgery and because she is on medicare, it's covered 100%.

She has not exercised a day in her life. Her version of a diet is cutting down to 2 liters a day of Mountain Dew from 4 liters. She has not checked her blood sugar in over a year. She has not taken any of her medications in 3 months, because she is using the money to buy cigarettes.

She would not even need this surgery if she tried half of the things I've been telling her to do for the last several years.

As we were finishing up the exam, she reports that she's going to get a boob job and a tummy tuck after she loses all the weight. She gleefully tells me that her cousin did it and got it covered by medicare because she told medicare that she was suffering from "mental anguish" from having "extra skin all hanging off her".

"That's what I'm going to do, too! It's awesome!" O39S is absolutely smiling like the cat who got the canary.

I think my mind must have short-circuited at that time because I couldn't mask the look of disgust and revulsion on my face. She didn't care, though.

"Well," she replied, stupid enough to not be offended, "Because I won't be eating as much, I'll have enough food stamps to trade for cash, so I can buy me some of those little Victoria's Secret underwear!"

I could only mumble something like "good luck with that" as I scurried out of the room.

Seriously. I need a vacation.

I like a little junk in the trunk ...

... but usually it's not the front hood crammed into the back trunk like this guy who was in front of me at a stoplight the other day. I can only imagine the shitty day he's having.

There are worse things I could be ...

... than my dad.

I was looking at this picture of my son and I that was taken a few months ago, when we were up in the Brainard area, and it seemed to resonate with me:



I don't know, it has a timeless feel to it. It was taken in 2009 but it could easily could had been taken in 1972. Which would've been when my dad was approximately my age and I was Peter's age.

I look at me and see my dad's half-smirk expression; the placement of his/my hands around his/my son; his haircut and clothes - even his sandals (his were leather, mine are some sort of canvas/microfiber).

Twenty-five years ago, this revelation would've upset me; today, it makes me proud.

I love you, Dad.

Ok, autumn doesn't really suck ...

... I know I was a little hard on the red-headed step-child of the seasons a little while ago. My SAD can be a bitch.

We did have some snow, but it melted quickly. I was able to get out on the river a few more times. Laura and Peter and I have visited many, if not all, of the orchards and corn mazes (maize mazes?) in the 50 miles radius of the cities. And we were able to enjoy a little color from my little trees:





Most importantly, I was able to help one of my favorite buddies experience jumping into a pile of leaves for the first time this fall:



Yep ... autumn doesn't suck too much. Peace.