I visited my adversarial doctor regarding the growing back pain and had the following exchange worthy of Aaron Sorkin:
Doctor: He’s your perscription
Doctor: Your back, I think it’s muscular and would send you in for an MRI but I’m pretty sure you won’t fit in the machine.
Me: So what caused it?
Doctor: Pickle jar.
Me:Â Really?Â I don’t eat pickles.
Doctor: Hm… maybe mustard, how about jam?
Me: I do enjoy a good jam.
Doctor: Probably jam then.
Me: So I should stop eating jam?
Doctor: No, just the jars.
Me: Don’t eat jam jars?
Doctor: No opening them.
Me: But I haven’t opened a jar of jam in weeks.
Doctor: It could be the fact that your fat.Â Or maybe you lifted something heavy (giggles) or maybe how you sleep.
Me: So you jumped to the pickle jar before saying it’s caused by me having a BMI that’s usually listed in up arrow notation?
Doctor: I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.Â Don’t lift anything heavy, except you.Â Remember walk walk walk walk walk (while making this waddling motion).
I hate my doctor.Â But my urge to never see him drives me to proper health.Â “I get bedrest and fluids alright you fucker, I’ll be damned if I see you again for this condition”.