NOVEMBER 2008

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Candidate for Backup Neurologist on Why She Is Qualified to Operate on My Brain
By Murray Brozinsky, Oct 03, 2008

Charlie, I have experience with a knife. I have cut things. Soft things. Hard things. Grizzled things. What you need is change, not the same old tired approach. My opponent has been a neurologist for thirty-five years. I on the other hand am not a neurologist, or any sort of ologist for that matter. Like your primary surgeon, who has run out to pee again, I am a performer. I have performed at my great hospital. My opponent has pointed out that my hospital treats just two or three patients a year and is really just a clinic for minor ailments, but fact is because we work out of a giant warehouse, we are the largest hospital in the country. I have performed there, making even some of my own knife-wielding friends disappear. And trust me; I will perform on your head.

They say I have no surgical experience. Pooh. I watch House. In fact I can see the TV from my kitchen if I crane my head. They mock me when I say that. I thought it was a compliment until I looked it up. Funny word, that mock. When House rears his head and lets his knife fly I follow along, slicing into a slab of elk or caribou. Surgical simulation and dinner preparation at the same time; I’m what we call, in my neck of the woods, a multitasker. In fact, during every surgery I have sex. I say drill baby drill. Over my career I have performed five minor procedures. Three patients died, but as a result I gave birth to five kids. I’m up a net two lives. That’s what I call pro-life.

My opponent says he’ll use fancy technology, scan your brain to see where the tumor is, shrink it with drugs, and eliminate it using a laser. I don’t believe in alternative medicine. I say drill baby drill. There are good cells and bad cells. I’ll know the bad cells when I see them through the hole in your head and cut them out with my trusty Swiss Army knife.

Like your primary surgeon, who it seems has yet again run to the urinal, I’m a maverick. When they asked me if I agreed with the Hippocratic Oath, I asked them, in what respect? Getting kicked out of medical school was the best thing that ever happened to me. Had I stayed I would most certainly be an insider doing surgery based on sound principles of science honed over years of research. Instead, when your primary surgeon called me from his commode to ask me to be a candidate I did not hesitate to say I was ready to cut into your brain. I have the confidence in my readiness. I won’t blink. Look how dry my eyes are. I haven’t blinked since last Tuesday. I’m wired in such a way that I don’t blink. And I won’t blink if you choose me as your back-up neurosurgeon.

I’m just a cocky mom from a clinic in a big warehouse. You know what they say the difference between a cocky mom and a doctor is? Education. And you can bet I’ll never let an education get in the way of being a performer. First thing I did at my clinic was get rid of that high-tech CAT scan gizmo. I don’t need no machine telling me where I can and can’t drill. I put it on Craigslist, along with my Hippocratic Oath. There’s much to like and admire about my opponent: his experience, his track record, and his credentials. But it’s easy to forget he’s just a world-class surgeon. I said thanks but no thanks to that bridge to nowhere. Pick me—or I’ll cut ya anyway.