"Obama's An Idiot" is where my political bitches now live. Go ye thereto and read.

Friday, October 14, 2005

The Moral Of The Story - Wear Clean Underwear

My wife found a bump on my chest and has been nagging me to go to a doctor to get it checked out.
This particular 'bump' is roughly the size of a BB, and it has many friends. I have a few other 'bumps' scattered around my anotomy, which, some I have had for about 20 years.

First of all, they are nothing, and I'll get back to that in a minute.

So anyway, the wife decides to make an appointment for me yesterday and after much stammering and whining, I consent to show up. She has an appointment just before mine and is more than happy to keep me company in the waiting room.
This is the worst part about going to the doctor - sitting on your ass for who knows how long, just waiting to get 'seen'.

I think every doctor who makes a dinner reservation should be made to wait in the foyer for at least 30 to 45 minutes before being seated. It seems doctors don't realize that to me, my time is as important as theirs. But they'll require you to make an appointment, sit there and wait in the lobby, bring you to their exam room just to make you wait more, then pop in, do their thing and be gone in the space of five minutes. In the meantime, you have wasted whatever time driving to and from, then waiting for their precious asses to give you their precious time!
Sorry, I digress.

So anyway, my wife says she'll wait, and I say I'll show up.

Fast forward to appointment time. I go through the routine, and the doctor comes into the exam room. She is though, a very nice doctor. I don't mind having her as a doctor as she is very personable and very pleasant.
Of course, since my wife's appointment was first, she had told the doctor about not just the bump she wanted checked, but that I had a couple on my arms that she wanted the doctor to be sure and examine, as it is rather difficult to drag me into her office unless I'm like, on my death bed.
So the doctor says [middle eastern accent] "Where is this bump?" [/middle eastern accent].
"On my chest" I say.
She says "Take your shirt off". Fine, I comply like the fine patient I am.
She feels the bump, says it is some sort of cyst, a fatty deposit or growth that some people get and some don't, but that it is nothing to worry about. I can have it removed, but more than likely it will return either there or somewhere else. She then asks if I would like her to tell my wife the same thing, and I tell her it don't matter, that I can tell her and if she don't believe me, she can call the doctor.
She feels the ones on my arms an says "Same thing. Nothing."
She then asks "Any on your legs?", to which I reply yes, and point to where.
"Take them off. I'll be right back." as she is pointing at my pants.

So I'm standing there in my shorts, waiting for her return, wondering who sitting at the nurse station across the hall, is going to have a good look at a very pale - mostly naked guy when she opens the door for her return...
When she returns, she tells me she had told my wife what the bumps were, and that she need not worry. Whereupon, she checks the bump on my leg.
So there she is, squatting down, her face crotch level, checking my legs out, and the only thing I could think of is "I guess this is why momma always told me to wear clean underwear..."

Okay, so that's over with. Sorry you had to suffer through that.

2 comments:

As always... Rachael said...

I know I have haev been a little tardy in my commenting, but did you have to swear at me?? You know I can only dish it out!

Glad your bumps are nothing - here's to your health!

curmudgeon said...

It was the endearment sort of swearing.
I know how you are. :)