I Should Not Be Allowed In Public

Doctor Visit

This Friday past, I had my trip to see a physician.  As I have several physical issues from my youth, I have to make this journey every six months to make sure all my bits and parts are still humming along and not trying to kill each other (or me).  Understand I try to take care of myself.  I stroll to and from work unless some horrendous storm prevents me from remaining on the ground.  I eat as I should, for the most part, with the occasional trip to the pub for a burger (twice a week whether I want to or not).

I am very familiar with the routine of my visits normally, but this time was a wee bit different as my appointment had been moved to a Teaching Hospital now that Logan and I have our own flat in a new village.  So I actually had to beg a ride from Logan because I am not walking half way across the county for this and I don’t trust cabbies.  Logan agreed to take me as long as I behaved myself (WhatEVER could he mean?).  I told him I would keep my arms, hands, and feet inside the car until the ride came to a complete halt.  He snorted, snugged my carriage belt tight, and off we tooled off to see the doc.

I won’t go into the interminable wait (thank goodness I brought my tablet so I could read) because the mags were always at least 6 years old with all the puzzles already done and most of the celebrities in them are either dead, in rehab for the 100th time, or no one remembers them.  Across from me sat a small boy holding a lolly and, gauging from the volcanic eruption of greenish slime flowing from his nostrils, he was not in the best of health.  However, he started to toddle toward me with his chubby fist outstretched to offer me a lick of his lolly.  Thankfully, his Mum intercepted him just in time.  Logan chuckled under his breath (asshole!).

When my number was finally called, it was as if I had just won the grand prize on a gameshow.  All the other contestants in the waiting area glared at me with jealous expressions.  I was escorted to a lav, handed a cup and told I needed to “give a sample.”  I was diligent in fulfilling my mission and, once accomplished, I toddled back toward the nurse’s station to submit my sample for their scrutiny.  Along the way, I was intercepted by a young lady about my age whose eyes were big and glazed.  I swear I could hear air escaping from her ears when she asked me what was in my cup.  I responded excitedly, “It’s tea!  You can get some around the corner.” Apparently my sarcasm was lost on her as she continued to maintain the “I have no idea what to think” expression on her face.

After submitting my cup to the proper authorities, I was escorted to an exam room and told to disrobe, put on the gown, and the doctor would be in shortly.  Well, I attempted to apply the robe to my naked body, but as it was fitted for a Sumo Grand Champion, I just let it fall and got on the table and put my legs in the stirrups to save time and any awkward conversations. I closed my eyes for a bit to avoid eye contact as much as possible.

Within minutes, I heard the door open and heard several feet shuffling into the room.  When I peeked, I saw 7 people in white coats staring at my “Bits In The Air” motif.  Apparently, I had “jumped the gun” a bit, to put it mildly.  There was supposed to be some fact gathering through an interview process.  And here I was ready for the poking and prodding and the application of various unguents and uncomfortable appliances to my lady parts.  I told the person with the namebadge, who I presumed was the one in charge, that we can multi-task as my ride is waiting in the lobby a bit impatiently.

Thus, while I was asked general questions from the person seated next to my head while a bearded person at my “business end” began the exam with ice cold hands and instruments.  Therefore, many of my answers to the questionnaire were interrupted by gasps and barks of various exclamations of profanity.  After all the prodding ceased I was told I could sit up and get dressed.  As my bits had, by this juncture, been frozen by the cold items thrust into my every crevice, I walked back to the lobby as though I was a rodeo rider.  Logan looked up and I told him to SHUT UP!

I swear he took the bumpiest path home ever just to enjoy my immense discomfort!


2 thoughts on “I Should Not Be Allowed In Public

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