Saturday, November 12, 2011

You've Been Inside A Giraffe

It's Sausage Saturday!

This morning my daughter has been my doctor. I have The Cold. And last night's Chinese Takeout is doing all sorts of unpleasant things to my body this morning. But that's not why. About six months ago we found an old doctor's kit at the Thrift Shop. It's this exact one -:

It had lost it's charm for awhile but is once again a big hit with her. Initially she would pretend to be the doctor and give me the once over. She'd always end up with the prognosis that there was some sort of animal stuck inside me. I'm not entirely sure what I was doing to get it stuck in my leg or ear. Quite often it was an octopus or an elephant. Then she'd give me Octopus Medicine and I'd be all better. Then one day I tried to occupy her by both of us pretending to be doctor's and all her animal/people toys needing treatment. That ended up being kind of annoying though because it was endless. She would expect me to treat every last thing that she owned using every single doctor's tool. This would include taking blood pressure, testing reflexes and most of all - trimming their toenails.

But she stopped doing that. Randomly she'd take my blood pressure but she's been on such a big Thomas The Tank Engine kick with her brother that all other toys have been out for awhile now. But a few days ago I was cleaning up and put back together the doctor's briefcase. I was feeling guilty that this thing had remained completely intact since it had been bought in the 1970s, and yet now in my house had been hung, drawn and quartered with it's remains strewn all about the place. So I'd put it back together and this alone had prompted my daughter to jump back on the doctor bandwagon.

So this morning's sneezing and whining about things being much better going in than coming out (curried beef and onions, if you were wondering) prompted her to grab the briefcase and get to work. So she gave me a shot - which seemed a little presumptive considering she hadn't actually checked me over yet. Then she took the stethoscope and pressed it into my stomach. Then she wisely proclaimed, "I see....the problem is that you're too honky." I do hope that isn't true. She also used that tool doctor's use to look in your ear to discover that many of my cavities (the ones on my head anyway) are filled with tomatoes. That will make you sick I suppose. After taking my temperature (don't panic - it went in my mouth) she determined that I'm too cold and need some hot chocolate. But instead she demanded that I pretend to eat a sponge baseball and then poop it out. Obviously I did.

Then, very much like Gregory House she completely changed my diagnosis and treatment. Now she realized that, "you have been inside a giraffe." I tried not to look too guilty and said, ".......yes the idea is called the 9 9 9 tax plan - that's 9 percent income tax, a 9 percent sales tax and a 9 percent business tax." She then insisted I wear a necklace that looks like a pig to get better. I secretly snuck some DayQuil at the same time so that she'll later think she did the right thing. Got to keep her confidence up.

What this has done though is prompt me to force my children into vocations in later life that they have no choice in. So they are going to be a dentist and a GP. I don't care what they want - it's been decided. Because this silly country is never going to fix it's health insurance problem. Too much money swilling around influential people to have them actually be honest and admit that if government should be building roads and drilling for oil then there's at least an ideological case that be involved in national healthcare for all. I'm not about to file a case before the Supreme Court citing that all Americans should be allowed entry into a mass Medicaid/Medicare system under the Equal Protection Clause. Nor am I about to mount a legal challenge for people in the US to be allowed to buy medical care from Canada. Because after all - it's the argument of people opposed to national healthcare that it isn't a government service at all but rather just a market product. You know - like jeans, MP3s and potato chips. So if I can buy food from Canada surely I can buy that.

So yes, I should groom my children to be a dentist and a GP. It's freaking genius. We'd all get free check ups and access to samples. It's filled with win. Particularly as after I just sneezed my daughter told me I need to eat sausages.

Sausage. It's going to save us all.

No comments:

Post a Comment