I’ve been forced to give my patients the silent treatment

Mouth covered

I remember singing along to Joni Mitchell in the ’70s. The song was Big Yellow Taxi and the refrain was: “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone… (they paved paradise and put up a parking lot).”

Those words came to mind on Tuesday, the day after my NBN debacle that cut the surgery off from all communication other than Australia Post and carrier pigeon.