The major problem with the medical
profession in the most advanced sectors of the galaxy had to tackle after cures had been found for all major diseases, and instant repair systems had been found for all physical injuries and disablements except some of the more advanced forms of
death, was that of employment.
Planets full of bronzed healthy clean limbed individuals merrily prancing through their lives meant that the only doctors still in
business were the psychiatrists, simply because no one had discovered a cure for
the Universe as a whole -- or rather the only one that did exist had been abolished by the
medical doctors.
Then it was noticed that like most forms of
medical treatment, total cures had a lot of unpleasant side effects.
Boredom,
listlessness, lack of... well anything very much, and with these conditions came the realization that nothing turned, say, a slightly talented musician into a towering genius faster than the problem of encroaching deafness, and nothing turned a perfectly healthy individual into a great politician or military leader better than irreversible brain damage.
Suddenly, everything changed. Previous best selling books such as
How I Survived an Hour with a Sprained Finger were swept away in a flood of titles such as How I Scaled the North Face of the Megapurna with a Perfectly Healthy Finger But Everything Else Sprained, Broken or Bitten Off By a Pack of Mad Yaks.
And so doctors were
back in business recreating all the diseases and injuries they had abolished in popular easy to use forms. Thus, given the right and instantly available types of disability even something as simple as turning of the 3-D TV could become a major chanllenge, and when all the programmes on all the channels actually were made by actors with cleft pallettes speaking lines by dyslexic writers filmed by blind cameramen instead of merely seeming like that, it somehow made the whole thing more worthwhile.
