Is There a Doctor in the House?

The other day I had a doctor's appointment.  I really dislike going to the doctor, but I want to take care of my physical well-being.  If there's something going on with your body that makes you think hmmmm, that's odd, then it's probably time to pay a visit to the doc. 

Why do I find it so unpleasant to see a physician? First, there's the whole issue of embarrassment, because whatever is going on you think that you're probably the only freak in the world to be asking about this, or worse, everyone else goes through the same thing and you're just a big wuss.  And you want to tell as few people as possible, but when you call to make an appointment and the nurse asks why you want to see the doctor, well, if you answer vaguely they will always prod further.  Then you hear her scratching in her book and you think she's writing 1:30pm appointment, freak with bump on her back.  I know that's what the nurse writes down, because when you actually get to see the doctor, they always ask what they can help you with. They need you to elaborate on freak with bump on her back, but the doctor isn't going to come out and say that.

Second, when you arrive for your appointment, just forget whatever time you were scheduled in for, just throw that out the window, 'cause you're gonna wait until they're good and prepped for you.  There's the usual amusements, such as reading magazines from last year, maybe a TV on some local ad channel, or some music. 

Of course, the best entertainment is really people watching.  Don't make it too obvious — just watch someone every now and then. Try to figure out their occupation, or what illness they have — are they the kind of person who would use signals when driving, or spill something on the floor and act all surprised if someone fell?  Make up your own story. If you get really bored, you could make some random chit chat and fill out your story.  If you want, give them a name in your story and you could try calling them that name, just see if you're right.  "Do you mind if I sit here? You look like a Barbara to me, what are you in for? I had you pegged for pneumonia. . . no?"

Finally you get called in.  No matter why they have to examine you, they give you a little paper gown that has a 6 inch skylight down the back.  Then, you have to sit up on that table, nicely lined with comfortable wax paper and sit there in your fashionable paper dress and admire the "What Smoking does to your Lungs" posters.  It always seems that the air conditioning is on, because it makes so much sense to get people wearing as little as possible and crank up the AC. 

When the doc comes in you tell him about whatever freakish thing you've got going on.  Then there's the poking.  The middle and index fingers seem to be the instruments of choice.  In all the years of medical improvements and they still want to poke you.  What is that accomplishing?  I can poke someone and know that if it hurts something's wrong.  They go to med school for this — to fine tune their poking skills?   Then there's always the thought of why didn't you come in sooner? That bump seems to be growing a little arm there. . .I think it's waving. 

You have to love when they just look at it, write something in their book and suggest you see a specialist.  I relate this to passing notes in class.  Man, my friends won't believe this. . . you've gotta see this one for yourself.  That's what I feel is going on with them sending you to a specialist or for a second opinion.  It's just too freaky to pass up.  Then, you get to the specialist and go through the whole thing again. If you're lucky, they'll send you for tests, so they have proof for their manuscripts. 

So to really summarize my feelings about doctors visits, I'd like to echo the sentiments of my editor, and say that "I don't like having conversations with people when I'm not wearing pants."