Turn Your Head And Cough
At 8:45 this morning I had a “Medicare Wellness Exam.” The last time I had an exam that thorough I almost ended up in the Army.
My usual visits to the doctor last twenty minutes or so. This one took an hour and a half. Of course, the first fifteen minutes were with the nurse who went beyond the usual questions. Most days it is, “Have you had any headaches?” Today it was, “Can you go to the bathroom by yourself?” She also had me reading the standard cliché eye chart to determine if I was blind or not. “Can you feed yourself?” “Do you fall over easily”
The nurse’s last words to me were, “Put on this gown. Take off everything but your underwear.” I defied her. I left my wristwatch and glasses on. I’m a rebel.
The doctor’s first words to me were, “Hello. Take off your underwear and the gown.” In all my Adonis-like glory the exam moved forward with the doctor’s command, “Turn your head to the left and cough.”
“Now, turn around and bend over.”
We were about to cross the river and venture into unexplored territory – which was about to be explored,
On came the latex gloves. A rather cheerful shade of blue – the gloves, not me. I was still a healthy pink.
I understand that these tests and examinations are important, especially for men of my age. It doesn’t bother or upset me. I’m used to being poked and prodded and today was just one more poke.
An acquaintance of mine recently expressed concern about his upcoming visit to his doctor who also wanted to do a prostate exam. I told him to think. Would he rather be getting the exam, or performing it? That relaxed him.
One’s point of view can make all the difference.
At least the lubricant was at room temperature.
The Medicare Wellness Exam continued. The doctor examined my feet. One of them looks like your basic standard issue foot. The other looks like a sculpted foot created by the worst student in the classroom. All I care about it is that it reaches the ground.
By the time we were finished it had been determined that I was still alive with good prospects for the immediate future. But, just to make sure, he had the nurse come back into the room (I was dressed by this time – no free shows.) and give me an injection of the latest pneumonia vaccine.
The doctor wished me a bon voyage for our upcoming trip and then told me to go to the “Lab” for a blood draw.
So, now punctured in both arms, I straightened my shirt, tightened my belt a notch, and got the hell out of there before they decided to do a few more tests. I could already tell them the results. I don’t have Ebola and I’m not pregnant.