I think our dog is constipated. She rung her tinkle bell early, early in the morning to go outside and she just roamed around the yard in a hurry with her nose down. I have no idea if this is what a constipated dog looks like. I’m assuming that’s her issue. She appears to want to do something but…can’t.
The tinkle bell hangs next to the back door. The dog rings it with her nose when she needs to go out. In the wee hours my wife or I stand bleary-eyed in the door waiting for her to do her business in the bushes. The dog’s been trained, Lucy is her name, by the way. Lucy’s been trained to ring the bell then do her business in the bushes, not in the yard. It took about six months of my wife demonstrating this process for Lucy for Lucy to finally catch on about what to do and where to do it. Those six months, by the way, were quite awkward with the neighbors, as you can imagine.
None of this would matter so much if I weren’t so very tired. I had my stroke about three months ago and it feels like every doctor in town has sensed an opportunity to run a test and send me an invoice. Yesterday at the doctor’s office the check-in document asked, “what are you here for?” I wrote, “something to do with taking a picture of the back of my heart through my throat.” Of course, there’s an official title for this test using a big giant series of important sounding words but I’ll get to that in a moment.
In a shocking example of a customer service failure, when I was called to the front desk the attendant had her very large computer screen turned with its back squarely facing me. I couldn’t even see her. My first encounter with a human in a place I didn’t want to be was not with a human, it was with the back of a computer screen with a disembodied voice somewhere on the other side. It was so shocking I took pictures of it on my phone. It was clear the computer screen was much more important than the patient. No reason to actually see me, or welcome me, or smile at me, or make eye contact, which took me from not wanting to be there to angry about being there.
Anyway, the drug they used to sedate me was milky white. I asked about it when I saw it in the syringe. They said, “It’s white because it’s lipid based.” What? If I ever start a new business, it will be one using words and providing explanations that mean nothing to the customers. Businesses that use their own language can charge more than businesses where customers actually understand answers to their questions. I’ll create a business, use some Latin-sounding words, drop them into customer conversations, and upcharge at least seventy five percent.
Anyway, the sedation lingered all day and at eight PM I fell into bed exhausted… until the tinkle bell began ringing, and I wished my wife had demonstrated for Lucy how to hold it.
I’m Cam Marston, and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.
