Ouchie

A Fruit Salad of Harm_Artboard 2 copy 2A doctor and patient in an exam room. The patient has a crude bandage on his arm.

Doctor
Well, let’s get this bandage off and take a look.

Patient
It really hurts.

The doctor unwraps the bandage. The patient winces. The doctor peers at the wound.

Doctor
Ooooh, ouchie.

Patient
What?

The doctor has turned to his computer and types while he speaks his observations.

Doctor (typing)
Patient shows a laceration on the right bicep. Ragged shape due to the instrument used to inflict wound.

Doctor turns to the patient.

Doctor
You said it was a corkscrew?

Patient
Yes.

Doctor
Electric or manual?

Patient
Um, manual.

Doctor turns back to his typing.

Doctor
Ahh, you’re old school. Or maybe just cheap.

The doctor turns back to his typing. The patient reacts as though he’s unsure if the doctor was just playing or taking a shot at him.

Patient
No. I just don’t think I need a machine to pull a cork for me . . .

The doctor couldn’t care less about what the patient’s saying.

Doctor (typing)
Patient describes the wound as “ouchie.”

The patient reacts to this. Slightly perturbed.

Patient
Um, no I didn’t. You said that.

Doctor
Shhh . . .

The doctor continues typing.

Doctor
You know, technically, a manual corkscrew is a machine. So, I guess you probably do need a machine to remove a cork for you. Don’t you think?

The doctor says this as though he’s really making a point. He gives the patient a condescending look, like “let’s be honest with ourselves now.” The patient looks back at the doctor. The doctor looks at the patient, smiling. He’s waiting for the patient to agree with him.

Doctor
I mean, it stands to reason, don’t you think?

The doctor is not going to drop it.

Patient
Fine. Yeah.

Doctor
I’m sorry, “Fine. Yeah” what?

Patient
Uh, I guess a corkscrew is a machine.

The doctor smiles triumphantly, goes back to his typing.

Doctor
And how did this all happen?

Patient
Well, my dad lives with us. And he’s got Alzheimer’s, and he was confused, and went after me with the corkscrew, got me in the arm.

Doctor (unimpressed)
Okay.

He goes back to typing.

Doctor (brightening)
You know, just to save yourself some embarrassment in the future, the disease isn’t called “Old Timer’s” even though it does afflict the elderly. It’s Alzheimer’s.

Patient
I know what it’s called. I didn’t say “Old Timer’s.”

Doctor ignores the patient, speaks as he types into the computer.

Doctor
Patient says he got his quote “boo-boo” in an attack from his father, whom, he claims, is afflicted with the classic “Old Timer’s Disease” gaffe. Patient either displays signs of distress due to the accident or is mildly mentally handicapped.

Patient
That’s enough. You knock it off. I’m here for help. I’m not an idiot. You need to stop.

Doctor
Settle down. Are you drinking? Are you drunk?

Patient
You sonofabitch.

Doctor (typing)
Patient becomes enraged and abusive when we broach the topic of his constant, uncontrolled, and habitual drinking.

Patient
You’ve pushed me far enough.

In a flash the patient summons power from the heavens. Electricity courses through the ceiling. His eyes shine with an eerie light. The doctor cowers. The patient now wears flowing robes, bearded and fearsome, replete with the glory of a god.

Patient
Do not trifle with me, mortal. I have called forth horrors from the abyss. Commanded demon legions, harnessed Apollyon himself. I have roamed the earth seeking whom I may devour. Your life is a wisp in my hand, like the downy fluff of a chick sucked into the almighty and terrible vortex of a tornado. Attend to my wounds or things will go so very badly for you.

The doctor is kneeling in front of the patient.

Doctor
I’ll do it. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

He leaps to his feet, grabs tape, gauze, betadine solution. The fire of heaven has left the patient. He relaxes and breathes a deep sigh.

Patient
Thank you.

An awkward beat of the doctor working on the patient.

Patient
You guys take Blue Cross, right?

Image by Gabe Stevenson

Ouchie

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s