Listening to the radio

by jexmas on October 16, 2013

It was all my mother did. Listening to public radio helped her be an armchair philosopher about the world state of affairs. “Oh, those bloody stupid politicians,” she would say when she was listening to some pundit commenting on the political topic du jour. “What do they know? Look at the mess they’ve got us into.”

But she reserved most of her vociferousness for doctors, since she fervently hoped one of them would find a cure for her diabetes and, so far, they had come up with nothing, at least for her. “Bloody doctors,” she said whenever a program about medicine was broadcast into the kitchen, “What do they know? Even less than the bloody politicians. What advances have there been in diabetes in the past 30 years? None! God, they’re stupid.”

In actual appointments with her doctor, she was remarkably deferential and would never have dreamed of criticizing him. And more than anything, she wanted me to become a doctor.  She thought if I studied medicine, I could unlock the mystery of why her pancreas had stopped producing insulin. I felt so coerced into her wish for me to be her savior, I ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction and became a copywriter in an advertising agency. God, I was smart.

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