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Fable for a Political Year

Once there lived a silly goose named, Grover. Grover Goose had not felt well for a while, perhaps a simple malaise rather than a serious illness, perhaps something chronic and more serious. So Grover convinced himself that he was terminal. He consulted with his friend Harry Horse.

"I just don't feel well," Grover said. "I have no energy. Everything irritates me. I'm mad all the time. I've alienated most of my friends. You're the only one left who still talks to me."

"You should get a check up." Harry flicked his ear and tilted his head. "Better yet, a complete physical. Perhaps even see a specialist."

"Healthcare makes me too angry."

"Calm down, Grover. Everything makes you too angry. Maybe healthcare just makes you afraid, and that makes you angry."

"Okay." Grover gave Harry the eye. Was his old friend conspiring against him too? "Maybe. Do you know a good doctor?"

"I have a great horse doctor. She listens when I talk. She runs tests when necessary and refers me to a specialist when needed. She is very good at making a diagnosis. She always consults with her patient about the treatments and keeps patients informed about what they must do to get well. I like her a lot. However, she is a horse doctor. She doesn't treat ducks."

"I knew it," Grover shouted. Grover's face twitched. His eyes rolled madly. His beak turned bright red.  "It's a plot. Horses get all the breaks. The government is conspiring against us. The--"

"Calm down," Harry said. "She has a partner who works just like her. Dr. Gloria Goose. She will definitely take you as a patient. I can give you directions to their offices. I'm sure Dr. Gloria can work you in, but first you must get control of yourself."

After a few moments, Grover's beak faded to orange. His eyes steadied, and the facial twitches became an occasional tic. "I'm okay, now."

"Good," Harry said. "I'll walk with you to the doctor's office."

"Never mind. I'm just going to the pond and see Doctor Duck."

"Doctor Duck? You've got to be kidding. He never asks any questions or runs any tests. He just sits you down. Stares at you for a few minutes, and then tells you you're not sick at all, you just need to take a couple of aspirin. He's arrogant like a human, and doesn't care about his patients. Any of his patients who survive more than a week after visiting him get the name "lucky" appended to their first name. Why would you go to see him?"

"Because he will reassure me that I am not the sick one. He will tell me my problems are the fault of someone else, and that if I pay his fee, everything will get better. He'll remind me of my old self."

"But you might have a serious disease that needs real treatment. Something that could eventually be cured if you just put in the effort with a competent doctor."

"Nope. I don't want to hear that. Too much work. I might have to change. Doc Duck will tell me what I want to hear, and that will make me feel good right now."

The End.

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