Ah Florida. Oh how I love thee? Well, sometimes. Surely one of the things I really didn't take much into account when I made my decision oh so long ago to move down to this state was my long-term association for the rest of my life with its oh so, shall we say, unique healthcare availability.
Many years ago when I lived in New England, I had health insurance through Harvard Healthcare. Yes, that Harvard. And, as the name would imply, it was freaking world class. Employers paid virtually everything in regards to premiums and for teensy-weensy co-pays I was able to see top notch medical practitioners. Of course I was young and healthy so, of course, I didn't even need them. And that's the way it works. That's how life works, doesn't it?
But now I live in Florida. Oh but get this, not just Florida but the butt swipe most countrified county in all of Florida. Plopped right in the middle of nowhere, Highlands County has no highfalutin’ tourist attractions, no fancy resorts, no pristine beaches (since it's in the middle of the peninsula far from the coast, well far-ish), and surrounded by dead orange trees since that once-laudable agricultural mainstay of the state has been devastated by blight for many a decade now and it's a shadow of its former self. With the local economy dependent on citrus agri-business, you can imagine the state of things around here since that's all literally dried up.
So it makes for an entirely sad situation when it comes to healthcare practitioners choosing to live and work in this area. Naturally, we get the bottom of the rung and almost all from non-US med schools. And, they hire what's available for staff in their office, that is the local country kids that grew up with a tattoo as their first birthday gift. And of course, their patients are right out of the good old Saturday Night Live classic Appalachian Emergency Room skits. No, seriously, I'm not kidding. The picture above could easily have been snapped by me today as I visited my new doctor. This is what I'm dealing with. Except they're all "Spanish."
So yeah, once again, I'm trying out a new doctor. I guess the one I had before wasn't ghetto enough. This one's a smaller practice so now I'm crammed in even tighter with my fellow dregs. Oh yay, here comes that guy with the thing up his ass again. Oh when will he learn? And of course everybody is coughing. But they're going out and curing that cough by taking a few drags on their cigarettes, and then coming back smelling of cigarette smoke. How nice of them to add a little bit of aromatics to the place. Well, I'll sure be getting covid now. Oh an hour later after my appointment time and I'm finally being seen by the new doctor. Of course thick as fuck accent, I can’t understand a word he’s sayin’. I kinda asked for the Rainbow Magic. He balked and said my Ozempic should be enough. This may be his final meet with me. IDK, at least he didn’t outright rule it out like Gonzalez did. Maybe I’ll give him another shot? I’ll be sure to wear my dirty denim overalls next time…or maybe a cheap baby doll dress?