Back in November, as part of my ongoing regimen of Immortality Aversion Therapy, I started having a problem with my hand. The ring finger of my right hand started getting stuck. Whenever I would close my fist and try to open it, that one finger would stay in place, and then suddenly snap up like a rubber band breaking. All my other fingers were fine. Since it didn’t hurt much as long as I didn’t clench my fist for any length of time, I didn’t get around to seeing a doctor about it until this morning.
I expect certain things when I go to the doctor, and I’m not often disappointed.
1) I had to fill out five forms (though I’ve been to this practice before). Three of the forms asked almost identical questions. (Apparently, these forms don’t get along well enough to share information.) The others were some sort of permission slips (in case the doctor has to take my hand on a field trip, I suppose).
2) On the other hand (no pun intended), the receptionist that handed me the bale of forms was very cute, and the doctor’s assistant was downright gorgeous. I have come to expect this, even though it defies the laws of probability. (Note to self: find a reason to hire a receptionist and doctor’s assistant.) Continue reading