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I watched 8 hours of House, M.D. last night and am officially in love. There is no weak link in the cast, not even Cameron, whose namby-pamby, wishy-washy behavior makes me want to chew wood and shit splinters. House and Chase are my favorites, the former for his snark and the latter for his magnificent blend of youthful idealism, insecurity, and surprising insight into his patients' fears. It doesn't hurt that he's pretty.
Watching the show has only intensified my fear of hospitals, and if I never see another gratuitous lumbar puncture in my life, I will count myself glad. I saw seven in eight episodes, and as an avowed needlephobe, I can readily say that I would rather rot from the inside out than let a doctor jab a boring nail into my spinal column while I was conscious. If, however, they lubed me up with 20Mg of Haldol first, they might survive with most of their limbs and vital organs.
And it made me wonder: If Flack was in a light coma following his torrid liaison with Verizon and a plummeting Xerox machine, does that mean that they cathetered him? Ow. Ow. Ow. Fuck ow. It might not hurt going in, since he was comatose, but coming out? Yeah. Ow. Motherfuck. Ow.
Watching the show has only intensified my fear of hospitals, and if I never see another gratuitous lumbar puncture in my life, I will count myself glad. I saw seven in eight episodes, and as an avowed needlephobe, I can readily say that I would rather rot from the inside out than let a doctor jab a boring nail into my spinal column while I was conscious. If, however, they lubed me up with 20Mg of Haldol first, they might survive with most of their limbs and vital organs.
And it made me wonder: If Flack was in a light coma following his torrid liaison with Verizon and a plummeting Xerox machine, does that mean that they cathetered him? Ow. Ow. Ow. Fuck ow. It might not hurt going in, since he was comatose, but coming out? Yeah. Ow. Motherfuck. Ow.
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