Dictator

I hate dictating. It’s like when you use the toilet at the airport that flushes automatically and you’re pretty sure there’s actually a little camera sitting behind that transparent window with the red light, and a little man in some other country where labor is cheaper than here, remotely flushing the toilet when he sees you’re done. I don’t care how many thousands of miles away that person is, I don’t want him watching. I mean, I can flush the toilet myself. Been doing it since I was two.

And when you dictate, someone gets to hear you chew gum, google, and say things like:

“This is a …… 48 year old….. no, 47 year old man who presents today complaining of pain in his left ankle for 5 days, preceded by being bit by a wolf. No, that’s not right….” Shuffle papers… “A meerkat. Being bit by a meerkat. Oh, can you go back up to the top and add 48 year old man with poorly-controlled diabetes. 47 year old. 47 year old.” Long. Awkward. Pause.

“He has noted increasing redness in his left lateral ankle since that time, and an enlarging area of black skin with a charred appearance.

“He has not a fever. Shit. Did I ask him about a fever? Crap. Don’t type ‘shit.’ F*ck.”

*REWIND* “since that time,*chew chew* and an, um, enlarging area of black skin…”

*STOP * LONG PAUSE. Shuffle papers. “With an appearance ‘like it is dead.’ He reports no fever, only feeling cold once at 2am-"

PHONE RINGS

“When are you coming home? We miss you!” (GB and associates)

“When you stop calling me. No! Crap! Don’t type that.” *REWIND* *STOP*

“Ok in a few minutes I promise.”

Right.