Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Mr Toad's wild Melbourne ride

Dialysis day today so got picked up by Executive Transportation, a eight proper bunch of Limbaugh listening, uncaring towards patients, speed limit breaking, slamming into turns so almost throwing me off the stretcher, making me late dormy appointment, wankers.

From my spot at Carnegie Gardens, Palm Bay Kidney Centre lies to the south.  Instead of heading that way, these asshats head north, by the Melbourne International Airport, Northrup Grumman plant, and then into the bowels of suburban purgatory, oddly with every other street with mattresses and other stuff taken out to the curb, refuse from renters unable to pay their bills.

From there, the dipwads picked up a nice gentleman in a wheelchair and placed him behind me where we could not see each other but he, unfortunately for me, could tell me all the detailsof how Brevard Holmes Regional Hospital misplaced a feeding tube, gave him peritonitus, and then had to take out his intestines and wash them.


The old man evidently lived in that subset of humans eager to share every excrusiatingly gross detail of his medical treatment, one class to which I so not belong.

(Then the infection spreade to my left testicle and multicoloured pus came oozing from my penis--NOT.)

Then the jerk driver proceeded at break neck speed--slamming the brakes and pounding the gas pedal--to the Melbourne dialysis center for the treatment of the other man.

All this helter skelter rambling made me late for my own appointment, which distressed me to no end.

Thus went my day for the soporific of NCIS made me sleep all evening, until up at 4am to finish my post and watch Smallville.  Exciting life, hmm?

I need a road trip like Sean Paul.  Road trip will mayhaps cleanse my stained soul.


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