The New Doctor

The knife cuts deep and another organ is removed. Cindy can do nothing but cry. She is having a hard time even doing that. Her organs are being slowly replaced one by one with new shiny technology. It is for her own good, so the surgeon says. She’s not so sure that this was a good idea anymore. He said he was making her better but she’s not sure that radical surgery is the proper treatment for influenza. The new liver accepts two liters of vodka and has a reusable filter.

His face is a kindly old practitioner inside a twelve inch LCD. His voice is calm and reassuring, but not half as calming as his medicine which he dispenses liberally. His arms are many slender metal things, each with it’s own purpose. His legs are simple wheels. His body is a silver and beautiful chamber, except for the splotches of Cindy on him.

Cindy knew that she shouldn’t trust the hippest technology with her medical welfare, but it’s so hard to resist the new model. She should have waited for the kinks to be worked out, should have downloaded the new patches. The Chrome Doctor actually worked pretty well for the first few months. Sure it looked like an industrial vacuum cleaner but that vacuum caught a tumor. It was benign but it still was a good catch. The glitches are more apparent eight months later, two days into a routine checkup.

The anesthesia compartment is blinking EMPTY in red letters. She’s coming to, and the doctor is still working. She can’t scream just yet, she doesn’t have that firm grasp on her situation thankfully. She wonders how many organs came with the machine. She doesn’t but she now thinks the deluxe package is not worth the sheer terror of the installation process. Now she realizes that she had accidentally asked for a complete checkup.

On top of the knife she was beginning to feel, she realizes that any hospital debts she incurs are her’s and her’s alone. Somewhere deep in the user agreement,  it is stated that complete checkups are not covered under warranty. Double damned, she moans and screams. Her lonely lofty place in the world is sadly bereft of servants or hired help that could come to the rescue. If she survives, she will get a roommate, one capable of interventions.

Finally her poor impulse control works to her favor, the designer generator which had such lovely suede decoration dies. The Chrome Doctor goes into standby mode, awaiting a full charge from the surge protector with backup battery. Not a lung too late, nor a suture too early, she is alive. Over a period of thirty minutes she inches her way over to the plug and with a very risky pull, the Chrome Doctor powers down. This model will receive a scathing review as soon as Cindy can get up.

Scratch that, first thing is to knock over the table and grab the cordless and call an ambulance.Once she admitted into an institution where her bowel movements are no longer her concern, she will then call a lawyer and see what legal actions can be taken. Then after that, maybe breakfast. At some point though, she will try out the new liver.