Previously, On Dogs On Drugs…

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that much to my everlasting shame, I watch the TV show Sons of Anarchy. It’s cheesy, poorly written, horribly over-acted, and terribly contrived, but because I watched it during the first couple of seasons when it was good, I feel obligated to see it through. Anyway, at the beginning of each episode, a voice over says, “Previously, on Sons of Anarchy” and then they show highlights from the previous show. I know they do this to remind viewers what happened the week before, but it always irritates me because I realize that I spent an hour of my life watching a show that was perfectly summed up in a 30 second recap. Such a waste of time. But I like the device itself, and often find myself wishing that I could use it in real life. So instead of giving a status update to my boss, I could just say, “Previously, on Greg’s Professional Life,” and then he’d watch me type on a keyboard for 30 seconds.

Anyway, previously on Dogs on Drugs:

“Tune in tomorrow when I divulge all of my knowledge about transvaginal mesh. “

When I typed that sentence, I really didn’t know anything about transvaginal mesh. Hell, if you look at it kinda quickly and don’t give it a whole lot of thought, it almost sounds like a lesbian run airline or something. “Welcome aboard Transvaginal Air. Our destination today is San Francisco. Flight time will be three hours, and the in-flight movie will be Jodie Foster, Ellen DeGeneres, and Rosie O’Donnell starring in an adult update of the Leonard Bernstein classic, Breast Side Story.” (Yes, I’m aware that was horrible, no need to tell me.)

The fact of the matter is, the only thing I know about transvaginal mesh is that lots of people are suing the shit out of lots of other people because of it. I know this because back when I used to watch TV, 50% of all of the commercials would urge me to contact a lawyer to see if I might be entitled to a Large Cash Settlement. That, however, never seemed to be the case.

Law Office: Thank you for calling Legalsby & Lawyerstein. How may I help you?

Me: Yeah, I want to sue the living fuck out of someone over this whole transvaginal mesh thing.

Law Office: Ooookay… Do you know someone who has been injured or has suffered as the result of transvaginal mesh?

Me: Well, I gotta hear about it a lot on TV, and that’s pretty irritating.

Law Office: But you don’t have any direct experience with transvaginal mesh?

Me: I’m not sure. What’s a vagina?

Law Office: (click)

Me: Hello?

So my ignorance in regards to transvaginal mesh is pretty much complete, or at least it was until I decided to look it up online. I’m still not sure what transvaginal mesh is for, but now I know that it’s a type of “intravaginal slingplasty”, and that certainly doesn’t sound good. I mean, when was the last time you heard someone say, “Hey! Who’s up for an intravaginal slingplasty?”

I stopped before I could learn anything else about it. I got the feeling that if I kept reading, I’d begin running into even more frightening phrases like, “omnivaginal wheatthresherectomy” when I greatly prefer my medical knowledge to be of the ignorant variety.

This is either transvaginal mesh or someone is getting ready to play badminton.

This is either transvaginal mesh or someone is getting ready to play badminton.

Speaking of which, do you remember in the 1990’s, when the FDA got together with the FCC, got really fucking high, and decided to allow pharmaceutical companies to advertise their products, but only if they didn’t make any mention of what those products were for? The resulting commercials were absolutely awesome:

(A smiling cartoon kangaroo gets out of bed in the morning.)

Voiceover: You’re a wonderful person, and you want your life to be as wonderful as it can be. Flibural can help.

(The kangaroo dances a waltz with a unicorn)

Voiceover: Reach your potential! Dazzle yourself and others with all that you can do! With Flibural!

(The cartoon kangaroo hops down a beach in front of a brilliant sunset while butterflies play tiny violins, and colorful fireworks fill the air.)

Voiceover: Ask your doctor if Flibural is right for you!

And you’d be sitting there thinking to yourself, “I don’t know what Flibural is supposed to cure, but I’m kinda hoping I have it. That looks like FUN!” That’s the level of medical knowledge I like to have about things. Nothing is so terrible that a couple of pills can’t turn it into a wonderful experience involving cavorting wildlife.

Then you ask your doctor if Flibural is right for you, and he looks at you all weird and says, “Why? Are your anal fissures turning gangrenous?” Which is exactly what the FDA and the FCC were aiming for in the first place, those wacky government cutups! I imagine them sitting on the couch, breaking into a major giggle-fit over some government ganja while listening to an illicit NSA recording of my doctor and I discussing Flibural and my non-existent gangrenous anal-fissures.

Of course I might just be a little bit paranoid about the NSA eavesdropping on my dealings with doctors. If so, I’d be willing to take medication for it, especially if it turned me into a kangaroo. But not if it involves transvaginal mesh.