I’M NOT AVOIDING MY DOCTOR
It’s His Nurse ...
Let’s not forget she was The Bella Antagonist
Introduced in “I Was Poked By 3”
… Lovingly retold below in one of Kuched’s earliest posts.
IN TWO WEEKS
We’ll Rendezvous Again …
For my Annual Physical Exam.
Where My Under Carriage will receive more attention – and flattering compliments – in 9 seconds
… Than it does in 365 Days.
THIS IS HOW THAT FATEFUL ENCOUNTER UNFOLDED
When I was Poked by Three Cold, Hard And Pointy Things …
Four, if we’re counting Nurse Smiley.
Two were pretty little needles.
The first prick – the needle, not the nurse – jacked me up with anti-Tarantula venom, presumably to heighten my already keen Hairy Spiderman senses.
I meant Scorpion …
Wait, it might’ve been a Tetanus shot.
… I wasn’t listening.
NURSE SMILEY IS NEW
To my Physician’s practice – Attitudinally Austere – and as serious as a backed-up Latrine in a Lumberjack Camp on 2-for-1 Chimichanga Chewsdays …
Her deft, stealth-like maneuvers in a bleached out lab coat make her a menace to track when she vaporizes behind the white door with the ever foreboding Staff Only sign and subtext,
“This Means You, Too, Kuch.”
While Smiley’s gone to do her behind-the-scene important nurse things, I think about the old one I like …
“… she radiates the irresistible elixir of freshly baked almond cookies infused with vanilla, nutmeg and cinnamon – a hint of talcum powder and spritz of clinical-grade disinfectant solution – and, it couldn’t possibly get any hotter, naughty Auntie Millicent vibe … what with those sensible beige Sketchers and compression stockings pulled knee high …”
Yeah, I know.
… It’s weird, right?
NURSE SMILEY’S BACK IN A FLASH
And, shes’s not impressed with me …
Flayed attempts at casting my irritable small talk charm – floating the Its-Never-Worked-Before-So-Why-Should-It-Ever: “Sup, hun?” – ended in futility of Epic Fails.
Smiley wasn’t buying what I was pitching.
Elevator or not, Smiley was letting me off.
Smiley’d just shelled out her last Ef-of-the-Day before I’d arrived.
“Evidently, Smiley’s special brand of No-Ef’s-to-Give is more popular than a bowl of After Dinner Mints at Uncle Ernie’s Halitosis Intervention.”
And, she wasn’t expecting a refill of her patent-pending Not Giving A Lukewarm Dump prescription until delivering The Death Stare.
Her demeanor suggested a life lived on the Fringe of Contentment – sans the weighty burden of empathy (to her victims) – and an absence of tolerance over my fussy disposition many others suffer daily.
With a gaze less wavering than a Renaissance statue …
Smiley delivered it on the rocks. Cool Operator.
Precisely as professional medical practitioners do whenever in the company of a
princess crying – grown-ass man – whimpering over a needle
… One barely visible to the naked eye.
THIS GOT MY ATTENTION TOUT DE SUITE
Whoa, now where’d that nasty chill come from?
The 2nd Prick sucked 4 vials of blood from my thickly, non-compliant veins, which I was told I wasn’t not getting back.
The 3rd Prick – the real butt clencher here – was permanently attached to my doctor’s right hand and covered by latex.
Inexplicably, under lubed, contrary to my request.
Must’ve been chilling his pre-manicured index finger on ice waiting for me …
Because, I’m still shivering thinking about the dude’s ring size.
And, void of the special feel good sensation
… I reserve for Colonoscopy preps, Root Canals and Tax Audits.
AS A BONUS FOR GOOD BEHAVIOR
I had my Scrotum Debriefed … Don’t be hatin’, Y’all …
Then Doc sashayed into sundry forensic work, investigating the shadowy crevices of my under carriage and (mostly) uninviting body cavities.
“Why all the coughing again?”
A grunt or snort, perhaps? Can’t I just nod while I’m being passively violated?
DOES GETTING AN ANNUAL PHYSICAL EXAM
Always have to be so invasive?
… In My Fabulous World.
THE GOOD NEWS
My blood pressure – never an issue – is perfectly normal.
So, there, that’s one thing going well.
A slight, but audible sigh of relief.
… Along with the promise of a cellophane-wrapped candy on my way out. (I pocketed a mittful for Poor Uncle Ernie).
WHAT I SAID
After the “It Could Be Worse” Thing Doc said …
“Shingles … you’re f@cking sh!tting me, right?”
And then … “You sure ’bout that?”
Crickets. Nothing. Okay, not confirmed.
MORE OF A CURIOUS SPECULATION
By the Good Doctor …
“We should rule it out, don’t cha think, Mick?“
Sounded like Doc was asking my opinion though he was not convinced by my response.We never agreed to disagree, so we left it there – hanging in silence – with my pants bundled around my ankles.
So, I snapped a high-angle Selfie. Jusaying, it was my good side. You know, I never miss a Photo Op. Though Nurse Smiley Photo Bombing Me Wasn’t Cool.
“Are you sexually active?”
I thought about lying – wasn’t sure where this was heading … possibly, a hook-up with Smiley … – but decided he wouldn’t believe me because I stalled a nanosecond in my mumbled, dumb response.
I spit out some
nonsense confession about being a celibate monk for the past two years. My inner voice trailed off as I referenced a Pornhub subscription for my birthday.
It felt deflating. I think he was disappointed. Like a Wing Man when his buddy doesn’t score.
Oh, for those insatiable Bean Counters keeping score …
I’m either 11 lbs lighter – or heavier? – but not both, than my last check-up according to my medical records.
“Are you kidding me, Doc?”
We came to an embattled, but fair conclusion …
And, Bromancing The Cojones …
Because that’s the wonderful Doctor-Patient relationship we have – my rudimentary math skills and savvy metric conversion ability (Kilograms to Pounds and back to Kilograms again, no problem) – is marginally inferior to his obviously more studied, accomplished and trained scientific mind than mine.
I think I’d probably be fair game in Scrabble, too.
Please don’t go there.
I’m less chunky …
By 5 Kilos.
So, you know a celebratory cheat meal – Weekend Long Buffet – awaits as a reward.
24-HOURS LATER …
I get The Call … I wasn’t expecting from my doctor’s office. Okay, then. Doc wants to see me to discuss my blood work.
I ask The ‘Lennial Receptionist booking the appointment, to schedule for the next day if there’s any concern to see me right away.
“No,” she answered. A soft, pliable, “No”, I thought could go either way.
Translation: Presumably, it’s exactly what is said to all their patients over the phone, which works exceptionally well to promote a disturbing night of non-sleep and worry, and a clever segue to scripting out a 90-day supply of Lorazepam and Zoloft … as compensated
lobbyists scribes for Big Pharma. (Now, where the hell is Michael Moore when you need him?)
MINUTES LATER …
A 2nd call from another medical office …
What was formerly named The Upper Canada Lower Bowel Clinic – so cool – and now dowdily rebranded as the Digestive Health Clinic, is booking for Autumn Colonoscopies.
“Sounds festive. Its a 10-Year Thing for Guys.”
Hey, isn’t it supposed to be Pearls – not deep anal plunging – as a traditional gift after a decade?
FUN FACT CONFESSION DIGRESSION #1
I’m not being kissed …
“Before a medical reach around, Doc.”
What gives, Big Boy?
I’m needy like that.
FUN FACT CONFESSION DIGRESSION #2
I’m not immune to Hepatitis A or B.
Who knew, right?
That’s the big important news I had to drive an hour both ways in what is officially North America’s worst traffic – midday – at the peak of No One Can Drive Worth A Sh!t In This City Season.
I’M GETTING MY TWINRIX® ON
Why does this sound like a sugary cereal breakfast substitute in a vial?
Another prick in the arm – scratch that – its 3 needles, injecting doses over a span of 6 months.
So, I’ve got that to look forward to.
AND, FOR MORE SH!TS & GIGGLES
I’ve been prescribed another needle …
To ward off pneumonia.
Alright, enough with the pricks already, and spoon me, Doc.
… Flowers would be nice.