Dr. No

I had a check up last week. A 'health screening', as they say. Actually, it was me who said it: I changed the name from the 'Pissing Blood Death exam' once I figured out that it was eating 2 pounds of beets that caused my initial colorful self-misdiagnosis. Ahhh, the internet. It giveth and it taketh away.  Anyways, I hadn't been to a doctor in about 5 years, so I figured, What the Hell, give the woman a treat. 

I picked my doctor initially because her office was around the corner from a health food store, in an old house, and she is a lesbian.  I figured this would all translate into medical pot and chrystal prescriptions, no matter what my affliction. I was willing to put up with wearing a slab of quartz the size of a baby's bladder around my neck if it meant that I'd be the only one at my federal facility toking up true in the smokers shack. I'd wear medical tye dye, so no one would hassle me. Reefer Medness ...Sadly, not the case.

Dr. Hern specializes in a 'holistic' approach to 'medicine', which means no coffee in the waiting room, or heat, and she brings her dog to work.  A 'therapy dog'.  The dog, Penny, some sort of cockapoo or small mixed breed, is next to useless.  Trust me.  Despite gentle verbal coaxing, a snausage bit lure, and finally sternly screaming, "SNIFF IT, GODDAMN IT, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? WHO HAS CANCER -- ME OR THE PREGNANT WOMAN!?" that dog wasn't giving up an opinion, preferring instead to wag and look sadly at the snausage as if it were a medicaid voucher.  Fucking specialist. Tandie, the RN knocked quietly yet frantically on the restroom door the entire time, which may have been a factor.  She whisked the dog away and put the 2 urine samples back in the little cupboard before escorting me to my little exam room. 

"Why isn't Penny coming in?" I asked Dr. Hern. 

"She likes to stay out in the waiting area with the patients, or sleeps in my office..." Dr. Hern answered.  She stared at me.  She held a clipboard.  "You don't have to be undressed, yet, you know..."

Or in the stirrups if that dog wasn't coming in. I scooted back to the top of the table and covered myself with a childrens book.  Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel. It took me awhile to decide.  Dr. Hern waited patiently.

She asked me a series of standard questions, What Medications am I taking? History of Heart Disease, Epilepsy,  Cancer...

We exchanged a look.  "I have herding dogs," I clarified.

"You what?" she asked.

"I have herding dogs.  If I need a cancer dog, I'll get a labrador or a blue tick hound...something that can look appropriately sad if needed. Something that doesn't mind dipping its nose in a jar of pee when the occasion calls for it."

"Yes...welll..I'm asking you about your family history."

"My dad had colon cancer.  And he had a spaniel mix. Barked incessantly.  He never flushed.  My grandmother was an alcoholic and she liked cats...Peed with the bathroom door open."

"Okay. Do you smoke?"

"Only by prescription..." I said, cheering up a bit.

She stared again. "What do you mean?"

"I don't smoke tobacco, no."

"Alcohol?"

"3-4 drinks"

"A week?"

"A day. Sometimes I break the day into halves or quarters. Mid-Afternoon, Evening....I DO NOT have a cat."

She stared. "That's not good.  One drink a day for women. Men have better livers, they can handle two drinks."

"I should trade livers with my husband because he is NOT utilizing his to its fullest."

It was pretty downhill from there. She took my blood pressure, looked in my ears, made me undress, and without the dog present she did the internal exam. She sounded surprise when she said that I appeared healthy.  I shrugged.

On my way out, the dog, who was busy being therapy-petted by an old woman in the waiting room, avoided making eye contact. 

The park near my house has a dog area.  Mostly small dogs and their overweight or elderly owners.  The owners smoke while their dogs sort of loiter about sniffing half-heartedly at the sparse vegetation..the piles of dog poo. The occasional ball is thrown.  Its sad. All that untapped potential.

From now on I'm saving my urine and bringing it there.   I don't need a doctor.

Comments

[Heydave]

Reefer Medness...

Thank you for the stuff you do!

[cyndee]

You should have said you consume 5-6 drinks a day so when you "cut back" to 3-4 it appears... that you are making healthy choices.

[Tata]

Come now. Healthy? It's not like you're smoking tofu. Or whatever the macrobiotic kids call it these days.