What's Up Doc?
Think of how many germs you can contract just by touching those magazines. People sneezing on pages, people licking pages to get to another, and just the fact that there are sick people in the doctor’s office is enough to think, “Hey, this may not be a good idea to touch everything they touch.” Many people get sick just by walking into the doctor’s office. I was pleasantly surprised that the office was at a very cool temperature, because it was muggy outside. My brain always flips to---it’s WAY too warm in this germ fest—you never know what bacteria de jour you’ll contract.
The art of avoiding eye contact with other people sitting in the waiting room with you has now become a game of ‘who can look away faster’. What else are you going to do if you are not flipping through Home and Gardens? ‘People watching’ is the second best time filler. Pictures and paintings on the wall only go so far. You always manage a way to point your antennas into someone else’s conversation. It’s not as if their small talk is a wee bit interesting, we’re bored! Realizing that my hand has been on the metal arm of the chair for more than five seconds, I reach down into my purse to grab my hand sanitizer- just in case. I pretend it’s like lotion so people won’t think I’m a freak; which…I am...
“Debbie?” The nurse calls from the door across the room.
I always get up like a dog who has just been taken off his leash. I rush up to the door and thank the heavens I don’t have to sit in that germ pool any longer.
“Right this way, the second door on your left is where you’ll be waiting for the doctor.”
“Thanks.” I say as I trot down the hall like a big ol’ pony.
“Go ahead and sit on the patient’s chair.” The nurse says from the hall.
There it is. The dreaded aqua-green chair with the roll of paper placed on the top. It doesn’t even cover the whole entire seat.
CruNcH~^CruNcH~^--- Ugh. Lovely. What’s the point of this paper? Just wipe the damn seat off with the tons of rubbing alcohol that you have, and BaM!!!!---Less cost in rolling paper, and you’ll save a tree! Where’s my damn granola?
Now you start educating yourself on all the tools the doctor needs. From wooden tongue suppressors, q-tips, cotton balls, alcohol and peroxide to band-aides to scalpels… Scalpels? Why would the family doctor need scalpels? It’s not as if he does surgery in this room. You glance over at the fake human organs that are on display for educational purposes, and wonder what each one is. I hope the doctor knows.
Of course the waiting is just agonizing. Each footstep that you hear you think, “Oh! Here comes the doc! Great!” But no. It’s not the doctor. You wait and stalk the doorknob as if it’ll turn faster just by staring at it a little longer. Turn….turn….TURN DAMN IT!
Ugh. The back of your legs starts to stick to the paper that you’re sitting on, and with each squirm, you make that crinkly sound.
Abruptly and by surprise, the doctor whips in the room like he’s Cosmo Kramer. He has the little clipboard along with your profile and whatever you’re allergic to. Yes, he has a novel on me.
“Soooooooooo…….why are we here today?” He asks with his one eyebrow up.
“Oh this is not I-Hop?” I answer back to let him know that ‘we’ are here for a reason, READ YOUR CHART YOU NIMROD!
Why do doctors always ask us why we are there, when the chart is right in front of them. This scares me. I hope one day if I am on an operating table under anesthesia, that my surgeon isn’t going to be asking that very same question.
“Hmm…I think I’ll give her a sex change!” ~Wa-LA~
“Doc, I am here for blood tests. I want to get a physical as I requested. I fasted like you said to do. Take my blood, check it out, and call me in the morning.”
“Okay, so do you feel dizzy? Do you get chest pains? Do you suffer from fatigue?” He asks.
“Yes, I do get chest pains, but I think it’s because Madelene made some sort of spicy Spanish dish.” I said.
"Ut! Okay! Be right back!” He rushes out immediately after I say that. Upon his return, he throws me five samples of some anti-acid medicine, and he rolls in a huge EKG machine (for your heart) to see if I have abnormalities.
“Oh, I really don’t think my heart is bad, I got that checked, I seriously think it’s just a bad case of heart burn.” I tried to reassure him.
“Can’t be sure, we gotta do this test. Remove your shirt, but leave your bra on…”
He hooks me up to these gadgets all over my body. He even had these sticky things on my legs. I didn’t even get a chance to shave---he must have been shocked and appalled when he lifted up my pant leg. How embarrassing! This physical was a very intimate one, if I had known, I would have moisturized and shaved! Thank God this was not a date!
“Okay, all done...You’re fine!” He says.
“I know.” I said, as I waited for him to pluck those things off me.
He pulled each one off so fast that I think he basically gave me a spotty wax. For the love of God---easy tiger!
Now for the blood… This guy better get this right. Oh…what’s this? A beautiful nurse walks in?
"Yes, my nurse will be handling the blood tests." The doctor says, as he leaves and says goodbye.
I wish it was the other way around, I could have been touched by a nurse without my shirt on. Hmm….maybe not such a good idea since I looked like Chewbacca from knee down.
Needless to say, blood was taken nicely, no problems there, but this nurse was a Chatty Cathy who couldn’t stop talking about her eye surgery. Lovely. As I was looking at my time, remembering that I fasted the night before for this blood test, my stomach was gurgling—I was starving.
~Oh please stop talking please stop talking -so I can leave- or I’ll poke your eye out!~
My thoughts became negative. They became more desperate to get out of there.
"You’re all set Deb! You can go, and we’ll call you in a few days with your blood results." The pretty nurse says, as she wraps up to see her next lucky patient.
“Thank you nurse, I appreciate it.” I said as, I booked down the hall like a Great Dane running for his food.
Moral of the story: I made it to I-Hop.