The Devil Who Walked The Earth
My Life as a Hospitalist
by
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We reached the room and as she turned the corner, she stopped with a start. “Oh my god, what happened here? Mr. Deaver has fallen and he’s bleeding real bad!” She bent over him, took a pulse, looked for breathing and finding none she stood up and did something that surprised me. She kicked him in the head, not hard enough to cause bruising but hard enough that you wouldn’t want to have been on the receiving end. She said to herself, “So long sucker, hope you died a miserable death you bastard lawyer you.” I made a slight noise and she turned with a start. “You still here? I thought I told you to call a code! What are you doing here?”
Obviously feeling guilty and worried that I saw what she did and might report her, I quickly said, “I didn’t see anything and, by the way, I hate lawyers too.”
That seemed to settle down her rapidly rising concern. She gave me a conspiratorial wink and said, “Let’s sit for a spell and make sure no signs of life appear. We wouldn’t want to call a code if it isn’t necessary.”
“No maam, a code shouldn’t be called unless we’re sure we need one.” So we sat for a spell.
She periodically poked him with her toes, “How we doing Mr. Deaver? Feeling any better yet?” After a while she looked at her watch and said, “It’s almost time for my coffee break. How about we go down and have a cup? We’ll give him some time to see if there’re any new developments by the time we come back.”
“Good thinking. I could go for a bite about now. I’m on tonight and I’ll need a little something to keep me going.” I reached down and gave him a little poke. I was surprised how quickly a body cools off to room temperature.
She closed the curtains and the door and we strolled down to the cafeteria together. On the way I had mixed feelings. I was glad that he died and was glad that the nurses recognized lawyer scum when they see it, but was disappointed that I didn’t get a chance to inject the potassium chloride I had in the syringe in my jacket pocket. I needed to know how much it would have taken and now I have to wait for my next lawyer patient. I just wonder how it would feel, me injecting the poison and him receiving it. That’s okay, I guess, I’ll find out next time.
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About the Book
For those of us who hate lawyers (and who doesn't?) this book is almost a Bible on dirty tricks and revenge. It also is a stinging indictment of the terrible state of affairs of our nursing homes although it's clear it's not always the nursing homes' fault. You'll find there's enough blame to go around in this hilarious but pitch black comedy that reflects the current state of inherent animosity amongst almost all sectors of society against and within our most esteemed professions. There's never been a better description of the desperate struggle between the greed of lawyers and the revenge of doctors told more graphically. Even when you're laughing, you still have your feet picked up off the floor as you never know what's lurking below. The only time you'll lower this book is to swat whatever's poking at you. If you don't agree, sue me!
About the Author
The author, who uses a pen name of Glenn Allen to try to keep one step ahead of the lawyers pursuing him, has been practicing medicine since 1979. During that time he's had ample opportunity to sample the best and worst of society and puts down in words what many in his profession feel but have never gotten around to doing. He's an avid tennis player, pilot, licensed boat captain, scuba diver and award winning poet. When the lawyers finally drive him from medicine, he plans to offer a fly/boat/dive package to the Florida Keys where he's been living incognito for years. He has two more books in the works that hopefully will be ready for publishing in 2008. Stay tuned. You can email him at death_to_lawyers@yahoo.com. Compliments and suggestions will be appreciated. Hate mail will be used in his next book.