A necessary evil
I had a call from my doctor’s office yesterday. It has been almost a year since my last check-up and perhaps I would like to schedule an appointment. Huh?
As I listen to the receptionist talking, I think to myself, "why the hell would I want to see the doctor? We aren't best buddies and the only time I want to see him is whenI am really sick... no, make that... d-y-i-n-g, thank you very much".
But then I remember my mate who died of cancer earlier this year and we schedule an appointment for the day after tomorrow.
I don’t like my doctor. He’s been around since the beginning of time and he is prolly the worst doctor on the planet. Although I cannot say that with certainty, because there is prolly a witchdoctor in some remote Amazon village that could possibly be worse than he is. However, he is been our family doctor and has known me since my teens and I am just too bloody lazy to go and find myself a younger doctor.
The best or the worst thing (depending on how you look at it) about going to him is the fact that he always has young female nurses working for him… reasonably attractive in their mid to late 20's. The nurses would normally conduct all the routine checks such as measuring blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, cholestrol, etc.
Now I find the thought of an attractive young woman attending to me in public, reasonably discomforting. Firstly, there's the whole "sex on the brain" thing to cope with and secondly, you are required to put on one of those friggin’ “now-you-can-see-my-ass” hospitals gowns. You’d think with all the advances in modern medicine they’d come up with something better than a garment that exposes your entire backside to the world.
The last time I went to him, I was checked by a nurse called Madeleine. Even though she seemed pretty ok, I immediately tensed up when she came into the room. We talked for a bit… mostly small talk and stupid jokes.
I asked her about her training, how long she’s been a nurse and what it's like working for the old doctor. Is she single and what are the chances that I can get her phone number by the time she finished checking my heart rate… you know, crazy stuff like that. Yep, things went pretty well up to the point when she asked,
"Can you get up on the examination table and lie down on your back, please?"
Fuckit! Now I am "sommmer die moer in". When they ask you to lie on your back, it is usually the point when they check the abdomen and the “equipment”. I could feel the breeze blowing up my gown as I swung my legs onto the table. Dammit doctor Levine, where in God's name are you? I’ll be damned if I am going to let this nurse check the jewels. Get your scrawny ass in here… pronto!
So I lay down, and as she prepared to raise my gown, she asked:
Nurse: "Are you wearing underwear?"
Me: "Nope"
Nurse: “Do you wear underwear at all?"
Me: "I normally do, but I knew I was coming here for my physical, so I decided not to wear any today”
She smiled appreciatively and she gave me the best blowjob ever.
Ok, ok, ok... !!! That part never actually happened. But it could've... couldn't it? She left and dr. Levine came into the office shortly after. He did the embarrassing part of the physical and asked the questions about my sex-life that leaves me staring at the ceiling and praying for Armageddon to come.
“How many sexual partners have you had in the last year?” (None of your bloody business, old man!)
Overall, I was in amazingly good health for a little nipper my age. My mental/emotional health is a different story and last time I checked, the dissertation on what makes me tick, is still a work in progress.
Doctors’ surgeries and nurses. Such fun times!
