Desensitization
May 18, 2008

50 year old male dies in the emergency room just 90 minutes before I arrived for my shift… I’m a simple admissions representative, not a doctor or a nurse. All I know is how to read an insurance card, and what information to gather. People come to my desk expecting a vast well of medical knowledge… when I ask, “Accident or illness?” I get life stories. I get medical history dating back to the 50’s and their childhood asthma. I nod and pretend I’m typing it all down, to give the illusion of experience and wisdom… maybe they find that comforting.

In reality though, I’m a college musician with no desire to work in the medical field. This is a part-time job paying the big bucks at 7.50 an hour, over 8 hour shifts of sitting at a desk. (Without internet access, I might add… this is a travesty.) Some times I feel like I deserve to be paid more. Who doesn’t, really, but I get death threats. I see gang members coming in to try and finish the job. I get insults and yelling fits and crying fits and vomit and blood and viscera at my desk.

Take that all in stride with a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer and be sure to replace your pens every half hour.

When I started here, I got shingles. Shingles for Christ’s sake. For those of you who don’t know what Shingles are, it’s Chicken Pox, the sequel. Herpes Zostra is the medical term for it. Big outbreaks of the most awful sores, which, at the peak of the virus, open and bleed and are so damn painful. Makes wearing clothes an arduous task.

Did I mention a man died today, at just 50 years old, not more than 20 yards behind me?

But here I am, focusing on me.

That’s the desensitization I’m talking about. People, relatively young, die here every day. Minors with drug overdoses, gunshot wounds, people that trip and hit their head outside of church, alcohol poisoning. Death, all around me. Death and dying. I guess they are outside of my Monkeysphere, or something, cause I haven’t given any of them a second thought. Other than to shock my friends with my depressing job.

So, stay cold, mocha Frappuccino. I need my caffeine fix this early in the morning. Keeps me awake to observe the beginning of the end.

Note to my supervisor: Give me a raise. I think I earn it.

Disease: Proof of God’s existence?
April 25, 2008

Those who know me know I take a very anti-religion stance in every argument. That’s because I believe wholeheartedly that religion is a falsehood created by man to make money and gain power. I mean really, tithes? The Papacy? Gimme a break, God doesn’t care about the Pope any more than he cares about the goldfish I killed today. (accident, honest.)

But here I’ll propose that death and disease are proof of God’s existence. In Genesis, God cursed humanity with death and disease when Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Man lost his immortality. He found weakness, illness, fatigue, and hard work. Eve found childbirth and death and disease and hunger.

And now my point; without disease and death and weakness, we’d become hugely overpopulated and all starve to death. Call it, instead, Darwinistic population control. Wars, famine, the Great Fire of London, terrorism, sharks… are these all the messengers of God saying, “Hey. I need you to die cause if ya don’t, 10000 others will?”

I’ve always argued that peace can sometimes only be found on the other side of war. Sometimes it takes war to get people in shape. Well does it take war as well to keep the population in check? Is this proof of intelligent design? That we’re angry, violent beings, with a tendency for self-indulgence? Is the fact that we haven’t found a cure for cancer a sign that ‘God’ is there, saying, “No, no, no… I need that cancer to make the rest of you alive.”

No offense to people with Cancer. I’m not saying you should lay down and die. Perhaps I’m saying we should be at peace with the fate of those who did.