After Kitty Bee had been waiting 45 minutes to see Kankakee physician and father of imbecile-machine salesman Brandon, Dr. Eddie Dixon finally makes his way into the exam room.
“I only have time for one problem per visit. What is going on with your weight? I see you gained ten pounds.”
“Medication side effects?” Kitty replies.
“No, you see Kitty, a pill has no calories, it cannot make you gain weight.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.” Kitty replies.
Dr. Dixon scrolls through Kitty’s patient record on his laptop computer.
This Moron of the Week is so cringey I don’t know where to begin. Imagine having a medical provider who acts like a fictional MoronicArts character, only not funny.
Take the case of nurse practitioner “Dorian Gray.” No that’s not his real name but it may as well be it. Dorian conned his way into the hearts and lives of the patients and staff at my former primary care office. He went out of his way to make me think he is compassionate and empathetic. Yesterday, something went wrong, very wrong. Dorian’s mask came off, as if he had stabbed his painting only to become a withered old man. The truth came out.
Dorian went very quickly from idealize to discard. I had called the office of Dorian Gray this past Thursday because I had been ill for five days with laryngitis. I was told by Dorian’s staff to wait by the phone, as if I had nothing better to do. Two hours and fifteen minutes passed with no call so I went out, figuring I did not need to be seen. I never got a call that day however Dorian’s office called me at 8:00 AM sharp the next day saying he wanted a telemedicine appointment. Fair enough.
Apparently my appointment should have been scheduled for 1:45, not 1:00 because that is the time Dorian finally signed on. I called Dorian’s opium den, I mean office, while I was waiting because I thought either Mr. Glitch had invaded his computer, or he was smokin’ something. Not having been given an explanation, when asked how I felt I told Dorian Gray, NP I could be better as I have better things to do when wait 45 minutes.
Instead of apologizing — heavens forbid — Dorian hung up. Thinking connection error — who wouldn’t — I called the office. Dorian answered and instead of apologizing like a person with empathy and compassion, he berated me, talking down to me like a butthurt fragile male breaking up with his girlfriend. Maybe he got his degree off a cereal box or while doing time. Maybe both? I could not care less.
For mentally abusing his patients and acting like a covert narcissist, I award this sad state of a nurse practitioner Moron of the Week.
MoronicArts 
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