near death Tale – Me against the medical assistant

So folks have asked me on more than one occassion…Why would you EVER avoid a full physical for over 6 years. Well it started out something like this…

Once upon a time, I was a smoker. And when I was a smoker, I was thinner-minnier-me. When I gave up that nasty habit, I gained weight and developed a marked aversion to what we call a SCALE. Therefore, I’d avoid seeing my General Practioner unless needing treatment for y chronic sore throats.

 After one particularly long ’bout with a sore throat lasting at least 6 weeks I made the looong journey from home to see my beloved GP. As I sat on the examining table, to my shock and dismay, my smiling Dr did not enter the room. Rather a hulking, hairy, scowling, stranger did. Now I mean no disrespect, but if you are 6, ‘5″, furry, of the female persuasion, and will be dealing with patients -at the very least put a freakin smile on your face because you will scare the shit out of the patients.  “Who are YOU?”, I asked thinking I had seriously walked onto a Star Wars movie set by accident. I’m the Medical Assistant she snarled. “Oh”, I said, “Well I’m here to see the doctor.”  The M.A. countered, “The doctor cannot see you today, so you will have to see me for a throat culture.”   

Soooo, she gets the culture and while waiting for the rapid strep, she commands, “Get on the scale.”  Well that was an automatic no.  Chewbacca as I had decided would now be named did not like this. She curled one furry eyebrow at me and growled this time, “Get on the scale.” I replied, “I am not getting on the scale.”  I hop off the table, and said, “The strep will come back negative, but please let the Dr. know I want the Z-pack.” I hear her bellow back, “She won’t prescribe THAT for you!” But by then I am already headed for elevator.  By the time I get home, I hear Chewy’s message that a scrip for the Z has been called into CVS.

And so it began… Me and against the medical assistant for the next several years. Because of  her I would avoid the G.P. by any means possible as Chewbacca would always be waiting to try to coerce onto the scale. She’d also book me for physicals which I’d promptly call back and cancel. I even resorted to seeing the Nurse Practitioner at CVS for sore throats. In the meantime, my Migraine Dr. had magically tricked me into getting on the scale but I’d outright refuse to get on that scale for Chewy. Damn near killed me too.

 Alas, once day a tonsil stone frightened me so I decided I needed to see the Dr. This time, however, when I called, the RECEPTIONIST advised, the Dr. was done “playing games” with me and if I wanted to come in for a sore throat I would have to get a full physical and they actually had an opening the following week. “For a physical?” I stammered, “How can that be,  you book those at least 6 months in advance?” The receptionist confirmed sweetly that in fact they did.  WTF? What, was there a note in a computer about me? Well, I was so desperate I agreed to go in.

Low and behold… Chewbacca was waiting for me.  Holding open a johnny. I snatch it and follow her every command. Even the “get on the scale” and when she barked that I had to “do better” during the breath-test, I obeyed like a puppy. She gloated while fondling  me with her furry mitts during the EKG to the point I felt compelled to mention my daughter had recently learned how to wax at school, and under my breath that she may want to try it.

They really rolled out the red carpet for me. The pelvic exam, pap smear, and when the Dr. said, “Wait, one more thing”, before I even could say, “What?”  her finger was in and out of my ass. Horrified, I informed her that nothing and I mean nothing had been in my before ass, EVER. She responded, “Well you have never been 41 before. Ha, ha, ha, and I never will again. Does this mean it is a one shot deal?  Yet, after being violated 9000 different ways, the Dr. actually has says, “Now why don’t we strike while the iron is hot and see you back here in 6 weeks?”

Lucky number 6. I am noticing a trend here. Well little did I know it then, but exactly 6 weeks later I would have more important things to do.

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