Well I had my annual lady-parts checkup today and like most of my should-be mundane experiences, this one didn’t disappoint with somehow managing to turn into a share-worthy story.
I walked into the waiting room for my 9:30am appointment and there were a bunch of middle- aged women and one ultra- thin, super tall chick who was gazing at a pile of printed ultrasound pictures and grinning at them like they were winning Powerball tickets. I waited for my name to be called and went through the familiar motions- weight, height, blood pressure, put on the paper napkin dress, all that jazz. A few minutes later, my doctor came stumbling Cosmo Kramer- style into my exam room.
So I have an old doctor. Like, he’s REALLY old. I forgot how old he was because I haven’t seen him in two years since he was on vacation for my last appointment and I had to see one of his fully-functioning doctors, which wasn’t nearly as impressive as being examined by a guy who looks and acts like he just escaped the geriatric ward. One noticeable change since I last saw him was that he was now wearing a hearing aid.
“Tracy! How’s it going? Just the usual? No changes?” He asked.
“Yup, just the usual- a number two with a side of fries. Off to work after this.”
“Okay, we’ll try to get you in and out. Actually, if you want me to stall so you don’t have to go to work, I can do that…” He grinned conspiringly.
Umm, I wasn’t sure what “stalling” meant while sitting naked in an exam room, and I was certain I didn’t want to find out, so I politely grinned and prayed he was senile enough to have forgotten whatever he was scheming.
I lied down and he began the breast exam. He’s like, “I hope you’re doing self-checks! You know, most lumps and bumps that are found are discovered by the patient.” (From this I deduced my own translation: “This appointment is useless…. You and I both know I’m too old to feel a lump or anything else so let’s just hope I don’t drop dead right now so I can bill you for this visit and add another chunk of change to my grandson’s college fund.”) Duly noted. I will be performing my own breast exams on a more regular basis. In fact, I’m typing with one hand and touching my boob with my other right now because I’m so paranoid he missed something.
When that was done, he mumbled, “Where’s that nurse?!” Looking around the 10 foot room -like she might be hiding in there??- he confirmed she wasn’t present, and jumped up and whipped open the door and bellowed “NURSE!!!! NURSE!!”
I mean. WTH. I was sitting there in that napkin johnny and I so happened to be in a room that faced the high traffic hallway, so I’m pretty sure a good handful of people caught sight of my hoo-ha while he had the door propped open looking for his helper. By the way, maybe the reason she didn’t come so fast is because her name is Nancy and she isn’t a nurse, she’s a medical assistant (I asked her while she was taking my blood pressure) so perhaps she didn’t know it was she who was being summoned. OR maybe she just didn’t like being called for like an obedient dog- I dunno. And dude- turn your hearing aid up!!
Finally Nancy walks in and he’s ready to get the show on the road. Meanwhile, I’m doing what I do best- making dumb jokes and small talk. So he’s getting all his props together and I’m all, “So doc, you have a lot of baby catching to do lately?” thinking back to Olive Oyl in the waiting room.
He laughed heartily. “Oh GOD -no!! I send those ones to the other office!” (Translation, “I’m too old to be keeping up with the pregos. I send to them to the doctors who can still hear and see. I only take the easy patients like you with no problems or the ones whose problems are mild enough that they don’t need to be treated for a few years- by someone else. After I’m dead.”)
I made some nervous wisecrack but by now, he was ducked down under the napkin yelling responses into my vag and I really didn’t want to give him any more distractions. Considering his lack of functioning senses, I was just happy he hadn’t tried to give my belly button a pap smear because at this point I think he was just feeling around and doing things from memory. Once he found an orifice, I could tell he was going for gold.
He finished up and then scribbled something in his chart. Probably a reminder to himself to keep breathing and get new hearing aid batteries. “So, just the birth control prescription?” He asked. “What about the Ambien you take, is that from me?”
“Um, no but I’m actually out if you want to get me some more…”
I barely got the words out and he was like, “Uh huh, yeah I can get you some Ambien.”
“Hey Doc, it’s not often that I need it but sometimes I could use some Xanax…”
“Xanax! Yeah I can give you Xanax!” He exclaimed happily.
I mean. This guy was a drug dispenser!! I wish I had brought my A-Game and thought to shake him down for some other goodies. Hell, if I wanted to consider a life in crime, I might even have schemed a way to get some shit with decent street value but that didn’t seem like a lucrative business considering my dealer might not be around much longer….
Maybe he was just happy to still have his medical license and it made him feel good to be able to write prescriptions…Or maybe he just felt bad for me because he knew how little I actually needed the birth control pills and wanted to give me something to take the edge off. Either way, this guy was so cool I wasn’t even mad that he “forgot” to tell me that he was sending me next door to have routine blood drawn.
“See ya next year, Doc!” I called back to him on my way out the door as I held it open for Olive Oyl.
“WHAT?? DID YOU SAY SOMETHING, SWEETHEART?” he roared. I just shook my head, laughing and waved.
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