if this cough doesn't kill me

i don't know what will. the downside of working with kids--the constant frustration, headaches and self-censoring aside--is that you're constantly exposed to icky germs. mean germs, cruel, indiscriminate germs that infiltrate your insides without impunity. i avoid doctors and health professionals of all sorts like the plague, with the exception of optometrists/opthalmologists. i've always liked going to eye doctors, maybe because they've always been kind, more likely because they never jab popsicle sticks and metal pointy things into my mouth. dr. leitch--the optometrist i've been going to since i got my first pair of glasses in 4th grade--passed away earlier this year. a kindly man, reminiscient of seymour cassel in rushmore, in both likeness and demeanor. may he rest in peace.

"which is better, one or two?" he'd ask, slightly wheezing, as the machine that determines your prescription would click when the lens alternated between one, click, and two.

"one," click, "or three?"

"two," click, "or three?"

"how's that?" he'd ask after going through twenty or so lens combinations, my sight magically restored.

anyhow i'm so desperate to rid myself of this fucking cough and shortness of breath that have kept me up every night this past week that i'm going to see a doctor tomorrow for the first time in three years. the doctor i saw last didn't hesitate to verbalize his character judgments based on my answers to his questions. i really wanted to tell him off and ask who the hell he is to put me on trial. i should've stormed out, yelling back as i exited the office, RIGHT, DOC, YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER THAN EVERYONE BECAUSE YOU DON'T ENJOY CIGARETTES AFTER PARTAKING IN COITUS WITH YOUR WIFE TO WHOM YOU ARE UNITED BY YOUR LOVE OF JESUS CHRIST THROUGH THE SACRED BONDS OF MARRIAGE! I APPLAUD THE TENSILE STRENGTH OF YOUR MORAL FIBER!