For the umpteenth time I go to the IMSS, a chronic dermatitis that is not covered by my insurance for major expenses makes me get up early, wait in line, waiting patiently for a month to give me appointment, another one to provide a sample Urine and today two hours standing in order to give my blood.
I avoid talking to strangers in line, their stories do not interest me, sorry I'm not in work hours. Then I perceive that my very low glucose level (fasting necessary to come said the request for laboratory) endow me the most cynical misanthropy. I hate the receptionists menopausal pistachio encased in their costumes, a glassy-eyed elders who still expect the distribution of land, those who are in the form of annual fees Afore talking leagues favorable when it is perceived that everything in life has been deficit, I hate missing all but wanted me to attack them, take the view in a book of Bolan, try to read but a profound nausea creeps across my consciousness, I close the title, I can not afford to read Bolaño in disgust. Women
very pregnant and my bills are stacked in a parallel line mine, a very hairy child as a human being, revolves around its parent inflated, the hairy bastard arrhythmic moves his arms so that it fills me with horror, "have epilepsy, tell your mother, pretends not to hear me "Listen, has epilepsy, he yelled as he pointed to the tangle of hair that now pressed against his body. Fortunately the line progresses, I hear my name, I put the elastic, pricked my vein, then my blood flows, rather than red, black, is the first time I see instead is the first time I bleed at will.
triumphant in the end I leave the clinic, more forceful and animated, I'm an enemy of street food, although blurred vision and a tingling in my fingertips made me change my mind even once, I get to one of the vendors, the rank steaming and tasty. Give me anything, soon! I approach a plate, I eat and I agree on that placid litany that comes to him who has lost half a day.
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