Bad Doctor

III

I’m not an angel of mercy. I don’t kill random patients.

I’ve got a list.

If you’re on my list, it means you’ve done something I refuse to forgive. It’s probably something minor to you, something you forgot long ago. But like the Stones said in the second best song they ever recorded, time is on my side.

Like everyone else in the world, you and your loved ones will eventually get sick or have an accident. And when you do, you better not come to my hospital, because I can kill you, maim you, infect you, humiliate you, frighten you, aggravate you, and generally fuck up your life in a thousand different ways.

Want an example?

I bet you didn’t know that every year three hundred hospital patients burst into flames during routine operations.

Three hundred!

You think all those are accidents?

Thirty-six items in a standard operating room can explode under the right conditions. What I’m saying, I can turn your chest into a fireball using nothing more than an alcohol swab and a hot cautery device.

So don’t piss me off.

And tread lightly, because I’m tightly wound. Every day it takes less and less to piss me off.