Doctor Doctor

Have I mentioned how much I hate going to the doctor's?

It's not that I have anything against the doctor's themselves, anyone who is forced by their profession to see me in one of those little paper robe type things is deserving of both my utmost respect and sympathy. I just hate the entire idea of the doctor's.

Most fat people do I think.

See, since I was little anytime I went to the doctor with anything wrong at all their response would be that it was somehow related to my weight. Now I'm smart enough to know that in large part that is true. Being as overweight as me is a disgusting health risk. It's stupid and dangerous and can and will cause all kinds of health problems which will eventually kill me. I get that. But that one time when I had a runny nose that wouldn't stop running? Not because I'm fat. Or when I got that rash on my shoulder blades? Not because I'm fat. The time I cut my thumb with the razor? Because I was clumsy, not because I'm fat. Yet everytime they make it seem like the only reason you're having this problem is because you're overweight. So when I went back into the doctor's today I was ready to here that the problem I've been having lately is because I'm fat...mostly because I was thinking this might be one of those cases.

There's nothing debilitatingly wrong with me. I've always had problems with things like headaches, nosebleeds, nausea, and insomnia. They go all the way back to when I was a kid. They don't usually bother me, or slow me down, or even catch my notice. But about three weeks ago I started getting these brief dull painful headaches, a little bit of dizziness, and nosebleeds all at once. This freaked me out a little. This seemed new.

Usually it would happen sitting in my office, or on the couch watching tv, once even while driving. But Sunday night it happened in a restaurant with a bunch of people around. It happened again Wednesday after I had visited the kids. And last night it happened while I was being sick from something totally different.

So today I went to see the doctor again. It's not something I do very often. The young lady who took my blood pressure was very nice but when she said the numbers I almost fell over. I asked her to take it again. Just a few months ago my blood pressure was excellent, if she was right I'd gone from good blood pressure to borderline dangerous blood pressure in just a few months. When the doctor came in he checked it again, the numbers had swung again. My blood pressure isn't dangerous yet, but it was all over the place. The doctor didnt' seem to like that.

Then he began the poking and prodding. This is the part I really don't like. First he sticks this this device in my mouth, then he sticks it in my ear, then he sticks it in my nose...so far up that if I wasn't already having nosebleeds I'm sure I would now.

"Hmmm," he says, "that looks a little irritated."

"Hmmm," I say, "so am I."

We talk for a bit, and he decides that there's nothing really wrong with me. He can't tell me what's been causing these spells, he doubts it has to do with the blood pressure, but he figures it's probably a combination of that and other things. Weather, sinuses, a change in diet perhaps. Maybe just the way I lay my head when I sleep at night. A million things I'd thought of, but nothing I could say definitively either way. I'm glad he thinks it's probably nothing, even though that means for now I just have to live with it. I figure I'm done. But not so fast...

"You're probably fine, but I'd like to run a few more tests."

What? Have I just been downgraded in the time it took me to put my shirt back on?

He tells me to strip down and get in one of those paper gown type things. To which I laugh and reply, "Why not just give me three and let me tie them together?"

He laughs and tells me I can leave my pants on if I take my shirt off, my ring off, empty my pockets, and remove my belt otherwise it will screw up the EKG.

Sounds like a good deal to me. Except why do I need an EKG?

"No reason. Just to be safe."

Cool. I'm all for being safe.

So there I am holding my pants up with my hand when the young lady who took my blood pressure comes back in, she explains to me what an EKG is, even though I already had a good idea, and how it's a simple and common test that they do all the time. Then she tells me to lay down.

So I'm laying there staring up at the light in the ceiling thinking how they should use a different kind of bulb to make the room feel warmer when all of a sudden she sticks something to my chest, and continues to stick other things to my chest at random points. I ask her what this is. She explains that these sticky things are the points she will be attaching the wires too for the EKG. I could have figure that out, what I really wanted to know was how she planned on removing these things without ripping every piece of hair off my chest by the roots.

So we're sitting there very quietly, when out of nowhere, the machine beeps. I figure this means we're done, but instead she tinkers with something and we stay quiet. The machine beeps again, but still we're sitting there. I'm starting to wonder what the beeps mean, but I stay quiet not entirely sure how this test works and not wanting to throw anything off. Suddenly there is a commotion in the hall. It seems like everyone who works there had their children with them because of the snow day. Considering there are only a few people working the place is just lousy with kids. When the noise starts in the hall my nurse bolts. Leaving the door wide open and me laying shirtless on the the table, like a beached whale with wires running out of me. The machine beeps. But there's no one there to tinker with it. The machine beeps again. Uh-oh. The third time the machine beeps with no one there I almost shit myself a little thinking what the hell is going on? If the lady hadn't come back when she did they would have been able to collect a stool sample out of my shorts.

Have I mentioned how I hate the doctor's?

Finally she tells me the test is done, and as she unclips the wires I see she's smiling a little. I'm curious, and suddenly realize the sticky things are still on my chest. "Hey," I say as she reaches out, "is this going to hu..."

And Julius F*ing Ceasar, she rips the first one off...along with every hair on my chest it seems like.

She laughs, "I would have warned you but that seems to make it worse." Ignoring the fact she's got like six more to pull off. When she's done she's still laughing. She asks if I'm ok. And I say, "I will be, but don't try and take my blood pressure right now."

Again, I think I'm done. Here comes Doc, "You can put your shirt back on, but we're going to need to take some blood."

What?

"Don't worry though," he says, "Your EKG was fine. Really good. Nothing to worry about."

And being the paranoid fuck that I am for a second I think, "Who are we trying to convince here?"

A half hour later I've pissed in a cup, filled five vials with blood, and am on my way with reassurances that as long as I watch my blood pressure everything is fine and that the spells are likely nothing and will go away as quickly as they came. This is a relief. Until I get in the car...and find I have a bloody nose.

Fuck all.