bedside_manner kerry dr meuse reminded me of a wolf and had the tiniest pupils i’ve ever seen on someone totally sober. he was from rural georgia and never wanted to go back, and his voice was steady and almost-soft. he sat in his roller chair close to me, beside the computer instead of behind it–not so common these days. i was so sad when dr meuse moved to texas–how dare he, and texas of all places! dr mccaskill was okay. he was beefy and wore shirts that were a bit too tight, and his glasses were trendy and his voice was very deep. he would tap away on the keyboard as i talked, saying mmhmm, mmhmm. but he laughed at my dumb jokes, when dr meuse only gave me a warm smile. dr davis seemed great at first but she’s a fancy-schmancy-pants doctor, researching and writing and passing me off to her nurse who is probably younger than me and makes sad faces during our appointments, like womp womp, boohoo, poor baby! i’ve become less friendly every time we speak. i've begun cheating on dr davis with dr pickard. she sits close to me so our knees nearly touch. she also could be my age or younger, and with her tight brown curls looks like my cousin miranda, the only person i actually know who has epilepsy. dr pickard asks question after question and also laughs at my jokes and can’t contain herself–you’re taking what?! and how much?? this is absurd! near the end i asked how she got into the field, why neurology, why epileptology. before she could answer, alex said, she wants to know if you’ve got epilepsy but she’s too polite to ask. i do not, no, said dr pickard, but specifically, it was surgery that drew me in–that test where you open the skull and place electrodes on the brain but keep the person conscious and talking. i burst out laughing, said that’s crazy, that’s like science fiction! brains are fascinating, no? said dr pickard, grinning. 211206 what's it to you? who go blather from