“Fuck Mulch”, said the Gastroenterologist.
They say dentists have the highest suicide rate of any profession. That “fact” always seemed strange to me and possibly invalid. I mean, how often does a dentist lose a patient on the table? Never happens, no one dies there. You’d think heart surgeons would be more prone to offing themselves given the pressure in that room.
I’m a Gastroenterologist or “G.I. doctor. I get to listen to folks complain about stomach pain, indigestion, gas and acid. Two days a week I go to the hospital and actually get to see inside strangers’ stomachs and colons. It’s quite invasive. One’s digestive system is like a look into their lifestyle, their secrets, their bad decisions. And I’m over it.
My wife texts me pictures of mulch. Have you ever bought mulch? You’d think it’d be simple. Maybe it is, except my wife has nothing to do all day and so’s been on a mulch mission. How many types of mulch do you think there is? I was surprised to find out there’s enough to keep her busy for two weeks. Even enough for a spreadsheet. There’s shredded hardwood, cocoa mulch, straw, compost, mushroom compost, fresh wood chips, pine straw, seaweed, stone, lava rock, even living mulch which could be a number of plants like alpine strawberries, vinca vine or dead nettle. So. Obviously, this is something that needs deciding.
Gerry was in today. Not only does he have stomach situations but he’s on psychotic medicines of various sorts. If I was to guess when the moments were when he forgot to take his meds, it would be the mornings he has an appointment with me.
“Scarlett has been active and it’s difficult to sleep at night, doctor.” Gerry believes Scarlett Johansson lives in his gut and creates excess stomach acid on a regular. “I ate garlic with pasta the other night and she hated it. Kept me up all night in fact.”, Gerry professes.
Why do I keep Gerry as a client, you’re wondering? The answer is specialization. Doctor’s go their entire career studying one system or one body part, such as the foot. This monotonous specialization creates a need in the brain for any sort of novelty at our workplace. It leads to affairs with the secretary, the ingestion of prescription medicine or a hit off the laughing gas, anything to break up a day of considering only the ear or the asshole.
Gerry is that change of pace for me. So I allow him his fantasy and I even look forward to his visits. In a day filled with stress induced ulcer’s in the stomachs of millennials I welcome his Scarjo-in-the-tummy mythology.
My wife doesn’t know about Gerry. It’s something I can’t talk about with her because what isn’t productive, or doesn’t move you forward is a waste of time in her eyes. That John Lennon lyric, “Whatever gets you through the night… It’s alright.”, for her, is never an excuse for indulging in some bent entertainment. This is what makes her so good at choosing mulch.
When you look inside the stomach’s and asshole’s of strangers on a regular it’s easy to think about suicide. You welcome the insane. “Gerry, it’s important that you know Scarlett is trying to lose weight for an upcoming movie role and she insists on a diet of fresh veggies and bland carbs, can you help her with that?”
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