Dr. Belliveau's Dream Job Chapter 5 [Fiction-Humour]
Just when you thought Dr. Belliveau was as crazy as a person could be, it gets worse.
Home. The doctor loved being at home. It was a small apartment, no bigger than his office at work, but here he could display his extensive stapler collection without having to answer questions from anybody.
His favorite stapler was believed to have belonged to King Louis XV.
It was handcrafted and engraved with an insignia that was hard to make out. Unfortunately, the person who had brought it to the pawn shop had let their child put a Pokémon sticker on the damned thing.
Even though the doctor had suspected the pawn shop owner was fudging the truth, he bought it anyway. He spent so much on it that he kept the price tag tied to it, always ensuring it was facing outward.
Some might think $4000 was a lot to pay for a rare stapler with questionable origins. But not Dr. Belliveau. He knew it was something special, even with the sticky remnants of a Pikachu Holographic Sticker.
What he didn’t know was that if he hadn’t thrown out his entire pack of original, base set Pokémon cards that were in mint condition, he’d have enough money to take a tropical vacation, or go back to school to learn how to become a professional Administrative Assistant.
Sometimes, the things we don’t know are for the best. And that was the case for Dr. Belliveau.
Dr. Belliveau kicked off his shoes and walked to the kitchen. He didn’t have a Keurig or Nespresso for his coffee. Instead, he did it the “old-fashioned” way from a jar of instant coffee.
Bloop. Bloop. He said aloud as each teaspoon of sugar hit the hot surface of the coffee. Stir stir stir, he said, sweeping his spoon around the cup. Then he stopped and looked at the fridge. What am I forgetting? Oh! The whitener. Must have the whitener.
He crouched down to the bottom cupboards and pulled out a family-size container of vanilla-peach flavored coffee whitener.
There, he said, just a sprinkle.
The next thing he did, as part of his after-work routine, was to turn on the television set. His apartment was so small that he could watch it from where he sat at his kitchen table. He thought of his younger brother every time he turned on the television from his kitchen table.
You’re a doctor! He’d exclaimed. I’m pretty sure you could afford more than THIS? Dr. Belliveau had laughed at the look of disdain on his brother’s face.
I can now, the doctor has explained, but I won’t be able to afford more than this on a secretary’s salary!
His brother had sighed with regret and disbelief.
You know this is insane, right? You won grants, scholarships, and went to the best university. Remember your university graduation book? Someone wrote, “Most Likely The Best Doctor to Tell Someone They’re Dying”. That’s saying SOMETHING!
The doctor chuckled at the thought. You’ll see brother. Just wait and see. He WOULD become the administrative assistant that nobody wanted him to be. Plus, he had a strong commitment to collecting staplers and other assorted office supplies. THAT means something.
Thinking about his brother gave him an idea. Maybe he’d call his brother. He hadn’t spoken to him in ages, and now was a good time to ask him what the “dark web” was.
Where’s my phone? He asked his cat. His cat gave him the same side-eye that he got from Stacey. He looked around, retracing his steps until he found himself on his knees next to the cupboard where his coffee whitener was.
He opened the cupboard door. Still no cell phone. He pulled the whitener from the shelf and unscrewed the wide lid. There it was.
This happens. Nothing wrong with me, the doctor muttered to himself. He looked at his cat. It’s not a sign of dementia.
Dear readers: It’s a sign of dementia.
The doctor blew the coffee whitener off the screen, tiny white particles sticking to the patch of sweat just under his nose.
Benny? His brother answered. It irked the doctor that he didn’t use his full name, Bennicillin.
Jim, hi, it’s me. Listen, I gotta a question for ya.
Jim sighed, irked that his brother didn’t use his full name, Jimbicile.
This isn’t a good time, Benny
No, wait. Won’t take more than a minute. What’s the dark web all about?
It’s a place where unethical doctors go to order anatomically correct dolls.
Jimbicile was sharp-witted, a quick thinker, always eager to poke his brother’s ego.
No, Jim, listen, I was trying to find my secretary’s password to her computer and hit a bunch of keys. The next thing I know, there’s a crazy clown face that also looks like a skeleton flashing on the screen. It had red words coming out of its mouth that said ASK ME SOMETHING. So I did.
Nobody gets on the dark web by hitting a bunch of keys, Jim said.
Well, I did. I think it was the dark web. Maybe it was the crazy circus web, I don’t know. All I know is that my secretary can’t get it off her screen, and if she brings tech support in, she’s going to get blamed.
Benny held his breath, hoping his brother didn’t probe more into the truth of why he was messing with his secretary’s computer. He already knew the password; otherwise, he’d never be able to access her appointment calendar to pencil in his next day’s appointments.
He couldn’t articulate what he was looking for if he tried. He couldn’t handle his responsibilities as a physician anymore. It was just too much. He kept forgetting important details, making mistakes on his prescription pad, and confusing patients’ names.
His memory was terrible. He had to read every file of each patient before they entered his office. It was too much. He was putting his patients at risk. He just didn’t understand why. He assumed it was burnout. And, for that reason, he didn’t bother getting a medical opinion. ALL doctors were burned out in Canada.
He sighed. Now his secretary could get fired, or jailed! for what he’d done. The whole thing made him want to throw up.
Finally, after a long pause, Jim said he couldn’t help. I’m not sure what you want me to do! he said.
What if Stacey gets in trouble?
Then she’ll be fired. Or HR will ask you to fire her.
Benny paused, running the possibilities through his mind. If Stacey got fired, someone would have to fill in for her. And that person could be HIM. But that didn’t solve the problem of having the dark web on his screen. Of course, if she had been fired for being on the dark web in the first place, it wouldn’t be his problem.
You still there? Jim asked.
I’m here.
Look, the best thing to do is report the problem asap. Just tell them the truth; it was an accident.
Benny had already considered that option, but he didn’t think anyone would believe him. How do you accidentally download a Torrid file and let it take over your computer?
Nobody’s going to believe I’m that stupid, Benny argued.
You’d be surprised, said Jim. Anyway, I find it hard to believe that a hospital doesn’t have a restriction on downloads. They can block staff from downloading or accessing dangerous shit from the Internet. If anybody is going to get in trouble, it will be the hospital!
Benny gave it some thought. Now he felt worse. One stupid mistake could take down the whole hospital with him and Stacey along with it.
I have to go, Jim said. The only thing you can do is report it. We’ll deal with whatever comes next. Okay? Jim’s tone had softened.
Benny ended the call and peeled his work socks off. He tossed them into the fridge, dumped the rest of his coffee down the kitchen sink, and put his slippers on.
It’s NOT dementia, he told his cat. You know I always wear my socks two days in a row, and that I like them cold. Nothing like a cold pair of socks on your feet to wake you up in the morning.
Once again, dear readers: It’s a sign of dementia
Benny settled in his favorite chair and thought about the implications ahead of him. This could be my chance to take over the office! He thought. Let someone else handle the patients. But, of course, he knew it wouldn’t happen that way.
He watched the television with no regard for what was on. His mind raced with potential solutions, and he ruminated all night over the implications.
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I have early-onset dementia, and I’m trying to write this book as fast as possible before I can’t write anymore.
Nah, it’s true. I wish it weren’t. If it weren’t for grammar correct (or whatever that thing is called - I’m already having trouble finding words) I’d never be able to do this. Well, maybe I would, but everything would be spelled wrong.
Oops forgot one more thing…
Have you considered just pressing the SHARE button? I mean, that would be awesome.
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for Chapter 6, which will also be hastily written.