Another day in health care....

I have asthma, 'beginning stadium' (so where's the soccer field, huh?') I was afraid of a lot of other diagnoses, believe me....

I went to my appointment like a good little boy.... Yech!

Everything very professional. I whipped out my card, gave the secretary my Überweisungsschein.... That is a document where your GP passes you on to a specialist.... and got sent to the waiting room. About half an hour later, an attractive young lady called me in to the )))))Belastungsraum((((. To see how much your lungs can take. If I were a tea-bagger, I would have been certain that I would get waterboarded, or something even more crass.

But it was worse, I tell, you worse! There was a great big glass cabinet in there, With a pipe coming into it, and she put a plastic mouthpiece on it, and told me to breathe. And shut the door. Which caused anxiety. And if I had been a Deather, I would have been certain that poison gas was going to come through that tube and put out my lights forever. Death Panels!

And she kept yelling through the door: Breathe in deep! Now exhale all the way! Breathe in! Now breathe normally! I was really and truly skeered---if I had been a birther, Deather, Becker, or loon, except whaddaya know, I wasn't. It was just oxygen....

So that ordeal was over... and I was still alive, and the Socialist death squadrons hadn't killed me yet, But more was in store. 'I am going to have to put a needle in your ear', she said. And I was shocked. 'INSIDE?' She was shocked, 'no in your earlobe, it is sort of like getting pierced.' I was relieved. She explained it was so they could take some blood and measure the amount of oxygen in it.

And I said, 'Ok, always wanted an earring and be 'cool'...' So she made me go into the waiting room with a horrible bandaid on my ear to anaesthesise it. So I went back in when she called me, and had a prick in my ear. Just a pinch mind you...

And I said, 'well, that wasn't like my last piercing, and I am not gonna tell you where...'

The Socialist Death Squads have a sense of humour. She laughed.

So then I got to wait in the waiting room, reading a book, and got called into the inner sanctum. THE SPECIALIST. She is about forty, no-nonsense. We went through my records, she was no-nonsense, but she listened. I explained. She told be to go into another room, and take off my shirt, she wanted to look at my insides more closely. I had to go up two steps, and my multifocal glasses make me uncertain. She kept saying, 'Why are you so dizzy?' And thought, 'Oh-oh, here it comes, the death squad.' I explained, and she ran that machine around me like I was the three dimensional visible man.

And THAT is when she told me I have the beginnings of asthma, prescribed two meds for the next four weeks, and told me to cut way down on smoking.

And then I was FREE, I tell you FREE!

I am not going to get billed for anything about this, by the way....

Seemingly, my time hasn't come yet.

But you know what? No one is going to pull a plug on me ever unless I wish that to happen.

We do not have 'death panels'.

But I have decided what to do if I leave this world. I will do something useful.

Next week, I will go to the university. The anatomy institute. And I will see to it that my remains are used for the students to study. What little remains after that will be buried in a very quiet little cemetery not far from here.

I know what that all entails The first time I came here, my friend Günther was just beginning a very prestigious career in medicne, and he wanted to frighten me. So he took me to the anatomy room in a cellar.... with bodies being dissected.

And it didn't frighten me at all. It was fascinating.

And I asked, 'People DO this volunarily?' And he said, 'Yes.' And was disappointed that I wasn't shocked.

So if I leave this irritating world, I want to do something constructive. It isn't as if anyone would come over and weep over my grave, so I should make that constructive, and maybe be of help to someone else.

I have gotten off topic here, but 'Death Panels' and all the idiots, and especially the death of Edward Kennedy got me to thinking over the weekend, and since am not feeling so wonderful myself, time to make some plans. I hate messy endings.

And most people wouldn't make that option. They have family who can come and mourn or talk to you.

I wouldn't have that.

So why not....

I know that is maudlin and morose, but am at a point where, if you are feeling ill for months, and can't do what you did before, wouldn't mind leaving the planet.

So it should be dignified.