Strange Discomfort Afforded by the Dematological Profession*

I think I have previously posted my complaints about my dermatologist, who does surgery on my face when I have a skin cancer (about once a year).  It was suggested in a comment that I switch dermatologists because mine is a Jesus freak evangelical who touts a local wannabee megachurch by posting the pastor's self-help book in the waiting room.  Unforunately, we only have one dermatologist accepting Medicare patients in my insurance group. So I cannot simply ask him to change the tape when, during the surgeries, he flicks his scalpal this way or that, all to the accompaniment of Joel Osteen sermon recordings.  I thought that when he hired a new dermatological partner, I might get some Debussy, but no, not only does he discuss the Osteen "programs" with the nurse-assistant, when he takes off his surgical mask I see that he looks exactly like Eric Cantor.  For a moment I thought they had given me deep sleep anesthesia and I was having one hell of a First Class Nightmare.*Wasn't it clever of me to incorporate a take-off on the title of a story by the late Malcolm Lowry.

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