Coming up short....

Yesterday I went to our new doctor for a checkup. Our last doctor moved from Rome to Summerville. I’m still trying to convince myself that his move wasn’t spurred by his reluctance of seeing me naked again during the next year’s physical. Nonetheless, recognizing that we needed a new Doc., we found one who was highly recommended by our neighbor. The good news is that his office is a few minutes away from our house. My wife had already visited his office, and liked him. I, however, was more skeptical.
So, after adhering to a pre-visit fast request, I arrived at the doctor at 8 am.
During first few minutes with him I explained the moving of our last Doctor, and then engaged in the regular chit chat. Then, after looking over the information that I had provided in my chart, he looked at me and said,
“So son, why are you here?”
I felt like telling him, “Well Doc, I guess during your countless hours in medical school, you missed the class on deductive logic, because my gut is the size of a small nation. Maybe you could start there.”
But instead, I told him I was there for my regular check up.
Going to the doctor is a strange thing. Where else can you go to pay someone to insult you? In what other conversation would you accept someone saying, “You know, you’ve got a wicked looking mole right back here that’s pretty scary.” Or, “You could stand to lose a few….hundred pounds.” Or “Have you ever paid someone for sexual intercourse?” Or my personal favorite, “ What did your last bowel movement look like?”

It would be interesting to throw something in return. Maybe the conversation could go a bit like this:
DOC: “Mr. Monson, I’ve noticed that your most recent blood work shows that the cholesterol levels came back rather high. Have you ever been educated about the importance of reducing your fat intake?”
ME: “Well Doc, maybe I can answer that with an observation and statement of my own. I’ve noticed that the last few breaths that have come out of your mouth have burnt the eyebrows off my face and that while I am sitting here smiling, I am really wondering how long I can hold my breath before passing out. Have you ever been educated about the reality of Halitosis and it’s direct correlation to return visits to your office?”

Or this:

DOC: “So, Mr. Monson, I instructed our staff to have you fast before the visit. Did you comply with that directive?”
ME: “Does your finger stink after checking someone’s prostate?”
DOC: “I’ll take that as a yes….”

Anyway, I digress. At the end of the visit, he asked me to provide a urine sample. Keep in mind that I had fasted the night before, and that my appointment was at 8 am. I had already drained the surplus, so to speak, after waking up, and yet he wanted me to produce. Add that to the unspoken pee phobia that all men suffer from, and I was in the can for 15 minutes. (“Pee phobia?”, you ask. Trust me, it’s real. Take a walk into any restroom and watch the urinal etiquette. There will always be an empty urinal next to a “pee’er” because people need their space. How many times have you been in a vacant bathroom, had someone stand in the urinal stall right next to you, and been able to produce…..awkward! Equally phobia creating is the need to pee into a cup while four elderly nurses dressed in white are awaiting your specimen like Gollum waiting to get back the ring.) Yes, 15 minutes in the bathroom! I tried every mental exercise I could imagine to encourage a few drops. I was thinking of waterfalls, rivers, oceans. I ran my hands under warm water for 5 minutes…..The ladies in the office probably thought I was either OCD or that I was taking a shower. BUT TO NO AVAIL. So I had to take the walk of shame, carrying my empty specimen bottle to the desk to inform them that I was squirt-less. The whole time I was praying that they wouldn’t say, “Did you try this…..” and then illustrate tricks and strategies to induce “PEE-DOM” in front of the onlooking waiting room. Thankfully they didn’t. Rather, the lady taking my payment simply said, “I understand, sometimes it’s hard.” That was equally embarrassing….I wasn’t asked to balance a budget, or perform open heart surgery, or solve the health care crisis….just, pee in a cup. So in an effort to not feel like a failure, I quickly explained, “Uh, I’ll be back in a month…I’ll fill up your whole damn water cooler then, Missy!”