Here is a song to entertain you while you read:
Over the past month or so I have had a lot of doctor visits. Nothing life threatening. Some are routine and some are to figure out the root cause of a GI issue.
Over the past ten years or so (alright maybe 20) I have noticed that doctors are getting younger….and younger….and younger. Like Doogie Howser younger.
First the doctors were always older than me. Like really older. Then they got to be just a little older. Then they were my age. I didn’t think this was too bad. After all they could understand me better than an older doc, right? They had good music playing in their offices and better magazines in their waiting rooms. Rolling Stone anyone?
We stayed at that stage for a long time. Mostly because I refused to age so anyone within ten years of my age was considered the same age. (Alright 15 years then!) Now the docs my age are retiring.
I switched to a female gynecologist a long, long time ago. I didn’t want Doogie peering into my business but also because there was a really great one here. Then of course there is the small hands thing.
Back when I lived in Delaware, I had a neighbor who needed back surgery. He had it done by an Asian doctor and he said the best thing was that the guy had small hands. His theory was that there was a smaller chance of damage. Too bad he died within two years but it wasn’t from his back.
Back to my GYN — I love her approach. She is very collaborative. In medicine there are a lot of variables. She has given me leeway to stay off of various meds and seek alternative options…like exercise and calcium pills rather than those nasty bisphosphonates.
On our last get together (notice I didn’t say check-up) the only thing missing was tea and crumpets. It was a delightful exchange although I could almost be her grandmother. Vanity forbids me from making any calculations that would prove that to be true. I prefer to think of her as my very younger sister that my mother had in her fifties.
This week I went to a new proctologist (no jokes pullease!). He looked so young I really didn’t want to show him my nasty!
He asked embarrassing questions like do I inadvertently pass gas. He’s a doctor for heaven’s sake. I can’t tell him I don’t get gas, can I. This isn’t a date. He won’t post it on the internet.
“Not any more than any of my other friends” is my response. (No offense to my friends and you know who you are!)
However, at the end of this exchange I got scheduled to have two tests that rival colonoscopies in their invasiveness. I have never heard of them before but they involve things inserted in private parts. (No! Not sex toys! You’ve been ready Fifty Shades again, haven’t you?) I can hardly wait.
My business will be sticking up in the air for all to see. Maybe I should get one of those temporary tattoos to make it interesting for the docs. How about “Hello Kitty” greeting them as they start their day? Oh yes, the damn test is at 7:15 a.m.
Double mocha latte for me that day for sure.