Routine Visits

With only this month left with health insurance from Chicago Public Schools (where I was a teacher, not, as everybody claims, a student), I decided to go on a doctor blitz and really health the shit out of myself. Just go to town on my ass with that healthcare.

I started at the general practice, where the family doctor tried very hard to find something wrong with me.

"You're at risk for high blood pressure," she told me. "Do you have a lot of sodium in your food?"

"A little bit, I do like salt on my food, but not a ton."

She strapped the blood pressure balloon-sleeve thing on my arm and inflated it.

"Not on my food, anyway," I said. "I do have a glass of mineral water or soda, and squeeze a lime in it, and then I pour a cup of salt in and drink it."

"On a dare?" she asked, horrified.

"Nightly."

The blood pressure sleeve deinflated and she looked at the results, aghast. "You don't have high blood pressure," she admitted. "But you're at risk - for god's sake don't do the thing you said you do. And you should only eat red meat once or twice a month."

"Why would I eat meat that's red?" I asked her. "Do people do that? Why would you do that?"

"How many alcoholic drinks do you consume?" she continued.

"I don't know, like three. Sometimes four or five."

With a smug expression, she pulled a pamphlet out from the American Medical Association and began to pontificate, "On a daily basis you should limit your alcohol intake to two drinks maximum-"

"Daily?" I asked. "I thought you meant weekly. I have like three or four beers a week."

She looked sad. "You should actually drink more than that, especially wine... Whatever, take the packet."

She turned to her computer and started to enter data.

I started to unbutton my jeans. "Are you going to check me for ball cancer?"

"No," she said, petulant. "Do it yourself."

"Every day?"

"Not every day. Like once every three months. You're just looking for excuses."

I re-buttoned.

"Oh!" she seemed to perk up, and turned around. "Have you had sex with anyone who has AIDS?"

I told her I had not.

"You seem perfectly healthy," she complained, finishing the computer entry.

"I've had this spot on my arm I never got checked out," I said, showing her the small, dark circle by my elbow.

"It looks benign," she said, inspecting it. "I'm 99% sure it's harmless, but I'll go ahead and refer you to the dermatologist just to be 100% sure."

"Could it be cancer?" I asked.

"I hope so."