Reflections upons a temporary medium-term return

Reposted from 19.nov.05 on irrealis

So I'm living in America for a few months. Specifically, in my ville natale, Scituate, MA. I grew up here but moved to Montreal when I was 19 and have lived there ever since (that was about 8.5 years ago).

I consider myself in voluntary exile, so I was a little nervous about coming back here for more than a few days. And I will be honest: the USA has proved as weird as I remember (not that I knew it at the time).

There are commercials for hospitals here; hospitals compete for sick people's "business". There are even more commericals for medications. Apparently, when you get sick, you should turn on the TV and figure out which drugs you should take, then tell your doctor to give you the prescriptions you want (or else, you should inform him or her, you'll be taking your business elsewhere).

I imagine myself in an ambulance, in cardiac arrest, or with an ax lodged in my skull, or with a collapsed lung, trying to communicate with the EMTs to let them know that I don't agree with their choice of hospital, that I'd rather go to the one in the next town over, because the actors they had playing doctors in their commercial seemed much more competent.

I imagine myself getting wheeled into the ER whose marketing team has won me over, shouting orders at doctors, demanding BRAND NAME narcotics, not some generic knock-off.

In the supermarket the other day, I saw calorie-free "creamy bacon" flavour salad dressing. I'm not sure how they remove the calories from bacon and cream; probably in a laboratory with petrochemicals (just a guess).

I imagine myself in an ambulance, having a heart attack, trying to be an informed consumer and let the EMTs know which hospital I want to patronize. I imagine myself in my hospital of choice, ordering my drugs from the doctor. I imagine myself imagining that as soon as I get out, as long as I stick to the calorie-free creamy bacon dressing, everything will be ok.

To be continued (probably).