Sometimes TWC hangs out his shingle.
Guy told me today that he passionately hated his medication. It made him violently sick most of the morning, tapered off later in the day I guess. He asked me how anybody could be sick and starving simultaneously. Not being an MD, TWC took that question to be rhetorical in nature. Said his head felt like somebody had the back of it in a vise grip and that it makes him bitchy at his family. Pretty sure he wanted to say more about that but he let it go. Says when nobody is around he screams in rage at things that wouldn't ordinarily bother most people. The dogs hide.
I wanted to go over some paperwork with a sweet old woman this week. She's worried about the specter of assisted living and made some arrangements for an annuity. I talked to her rep at the bank on Friday last about it and must have spooked her. Like an old time melodrama, Ms Snidely Whiplash showed up at the old lady's doorstep on, get this, *Sunday Morning*. Put the arm on her to sign the papers and transfer the money, presumably so the bad old accountant wouldn't put the kabash on the whole deal. I might have, too, because the deal wasn't what the rep told my client it was. Hate people that manipulate old people. Most people blame the institution, but really, it's just the snakes that work there.
Years ago a Jehovah Witness Latino gardener client broke down in the office. Great huge gasping sobs, the kind where it feels like the wind's been knocked out of you. It was Christmas. Mexican folk and Witnesses and my wacky sister are all old school. It is the *MAN's* job to take care of his family and my guy couldn't bear that his wife took a job so's the bambinos could see proof of Santa that year.
My advice to all?
Drink more red wine.
Five Cents Please.
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