JRoosh, the new deep thinker over at Shot in the Dark, sits in the doctor's examination room. The room is chilly, and "J" as he is known to his friends, shivers in the flimsy gown with the open back. His bare butt sticks to the vinyl examination table, his feet swinging free, and "J" wonders how may other a**holes - no pun intended - have been parked in the same spot.
J had a routine physical a few weeks ago, and the doctor had, well, fingered an enlarged prostate. He had a PSA test, and J's doctor had made a concerned call to J to tell him that his PSA number was "to the moon." Now, J had come in for some tests and is awaiting the results.
Dr. Pawlenty opens the door and walks into the room wearing a frown. This conversation ensues:
TP: Well, J, I'm afraid I do have bad news. As suspected, you have early stage prostate cancer.
JR: That is bad news. It could be worse, though, right?
TP: I'm afraid it's fatal; it always is. You have some time, but you should start getting your affairs in order.
JR: FATAL? What do you mean, fatal? Jesus Christ, you just told me it was early stage.
TP: Yes, but these things have a way of progressing you know! Did you know that Frank Zappa died of prostate cancer? His was early stage once, too.
JR: You mean that you don't propose to do ANYTHING?
TP: Well, it is the way you were designed, so to speak. That's hardly my fault!
JR: Doc, I don't blame you for the fact that I have cancer, but I do expect you to do something about it. I'm paying you, or at least I hope my insurance company is, to make me better.
TP: Why can't you accept this as one of those black swans that King Banaian is so fond of blathering about?
JR: I can't believe this conversation.
TP: Well, you must believe it. Acceptance is part of making your final days as good as they can be.
JR: There must be something we can do.
TP: I have a suggestion. Why don't you buy a tanning bed, so that you can be the glowing picture of health, almost right up until the end?
JR: That's it?
TP: It's all I've got.
JR: [sobbing] How much time have I got, Doc?
It is a shame that our friend J doesn't have a better doctor. It is also a shame that that Minnesota doesn't have a better governor. But today, J trumpets what he calls the vindication of Governor Pepsodent on the bridge fiasco. As if.
The article in the Strib that J refers to is in the paper today. The headline? I-35W bridge was doomed from the start. It was a design defect!
We are, of course, all doomed from the start. But that doesn't means we don't get physicals, submit to humiliating examinations, and pay the medical profession to try to keep us healthy.
In the case of the bridge, the Pawlenty administration also fingered the whopper, got the test results, and opted for the cosmetic solution.
And the partisan coroner's inquest exonerates Doctor Pawlenty. What a surprise.
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