Friday, October 25, 2013

Let's Get Physical

I needed to schedule a physical by the end of the year. When I called in September I was told that the first opening my doctor had was February 2014. Seriously?

This never would have happened with Dr. DILF. Oh how I miss him. He always found time to fit me in. I could email him a photo of a weird looking rash and never had to wait long for a response. Once he replied from a ship off the coast of Antarctica. What he was doing there, he never said. Probably stuffing Lipitor in mackerel and feeding them to penguins with cardiovascular risk factors. Because that's the kind of guy he was.

I explained to the woman on the phone that it was important for insurance reasons that I get the physical done this year. After some time she was able to set me up with my doctor's colleague's physician assistant.

This morning I showed up early for my appointment, filled out the paperwork and was ushered to a wing of the office I've never seen before. I was weighed and measured, given a gown and told to undress. The PA was nice enough. I never had full physical exam by a woman before, but we're all professionals here.

But when it came time for my hernia check and prostate exam, the PA called in a nurse. I guess she didn't want to be alone in the room with me while she violated me. It was kind of surreal.

(Weirder even than the time my insurance changed and I had to switch to a doctor referred to me by my friend, Larry. That guy gave me a surprise prostate exam while I was lying on the examination table. One minute he's palpating my spleen asking "Does this hurt?" and the next he was spreading my cheeks. I called Larry when I got home, my voice still quivering. Seems Larry didn't see anything strange about that. I told Larry he needs to find a new doctor.)
I guess that would explain the
O'Keeffesque decor.
And the gown.

My genital and prostate exam this morning took twenty seconds that felt like twenty minutes. In case you were wondering, my prostate is fine. And my penis always looks like that around women.

Maybe it's just me, but the worst part of a prostate exam comes when they hand you the tissues. And then just stand there talking to you while you're supposed to remove the excess lube from your crack, the whole while expected to hold up your end of the conversation.

So you wipe, but then of course the biohazard trash can is all the way across the room and your underpants are around your ankles. I'm beginning to suspect doctors live to watch that.

Except Larry's doctor. He wipes you.

As I left, a little shaken but with a clean bill of health, I stopped to look at the sign outside the office. My doctor's colleague is a gynecologist?


  1. So are you telling me your new doctor is a gynecologist? LOL!!!

  2. Were your feet up in the sturrips?

  3. might THIS be Larry's doctor?

  4. In Russia, prostate checks doctor!