Sigh. George. Now why can't doctors be like this dude? This scene was probably part of the best promo in the history of network television, with probably the best doctor in the history of network television. I wish my doctor was more like this. Confident. Strong. A look in his eyes that says "I know what's best for you and dammit it's my call...you hear me??? MY CALL!!!" Now you've got idiots like Dr. House, probably the most unlikeable television lead since whoever Balki's cousin was on Perfect Strangers. And in real life, I continually get people who take years to figure out what the hell they want to do with me, and by the time they get an clue, it's time for me to move again.
So yesterday I had an appointment to go in there to check out the shoulder blade I injured when I violently sneezed a month ago. The thing is, I knew I was going to be screwed because I made the appointment three weeks ago when the shoulder started going numb. Of course the first time they could get me in was yesterday, three weeks later, when I was pretty sure that the pain would not be nearly as intense, and I'd look like a jackass for coming in there with a "sort-of sore back". Whatever, I kept the appointment anyway because I figured I could get a flu shot while I was in there.
The day had already started out like bullshit because I was going on the second straight day of a hangover...the hangover you have after two straight days of getting bombed. It's different than the Day 1 deal. Day 2 is almost worse for me, because I've spent the entire night before laying in bed, terrified to fall asleep because my heart is racing at 100mph and I'm worried I won't wake up. And when you do sleep, it's only in minute-long shifts, as you keep having to wake up to pee and then drink more water and confirm you're still alive. It's brutal. So after getting about as little sleep as I'd imagine a serial killer does, I wake up feeling like ass. I flipped on the computer and the first thing I read is an email from The Wife giving me a list of shit to do. In my state, I don't even feel like doing my daily canvassing of the neighborhood looking for wayward children to approach, let alone bother with this list my wife has given me. On top of this, I learn that my teenage daughter may have a boyfriend who we've never met and who is apparently taking her to the Chiefs game this weekend. More fantastic news. But apparently the boyfriend is "excited" to meet us, which makes him either an idiot or a con artist. I'll decide that on Sunday. If he's smart he'll get here before I'm too many beers in.
She really wasn't too far off base with this performance.
I get to the doctor's office, luckily early enough to compensate for my incredibly bad luck. There are two doctor's buildings here, about a football field apart from each other, so it's really a pain in the ass if you pick the wrong one because it takes time to get to the other one. Of course when I get in to Building 2, and walk up to the office, the lady says, "They've moved offices". Well that's nice. I'm glad someone felt the need to give me a call to alert me of these proceedings. Then, in leaving, I somehow get turned around and instead of walking out of the door to the parking lot where my car is, I'm at one on the completely other side of the building. So I figure I'll just walk to Building 1.
When I get in the right office, I sign in...but dude doesn't see I'm there. He's a "Ross the Intern" lookalike AND soundalike, running his mouth about the latest Lance Bass video or something with another patient and seriously hasn't even glanced in my direction. Now you're SUPPOSED to sit down after signing in and wait for them to call you...but how is he going to call me when he doesn't even know I'm there? So I stand there. I stand and wait for someone to acknowledge the black man with the hoodie and skull cap pacing the room like a mental patient. Finally, some other woman behind the counter comes up to the window. She scolds me for standing there: "You're SUPPOSED to be sitting down, but since I'm here now I'll help you." I play dumb and say some shit like "Yeah, it's been so long since I've been here I forgot the procedure." Not a smile from her at all. Is it me or are 99.1% of people behind the desk at a doctor's office serious assholes? She takes my info and I have a seat. Coincidentally, although when I normally get in to see this doctor, it's usually 10 minutes or less. This time it was 30 minutes. Passive-aggressive bitch.
This fat kid looks like he's wearing a Halloween costume of a fat kid.
Amazingly enough, despite not working out in a month, my weight stayed the same. That wasn't what I was worried about. I KNEW I was on the Day 2 hangover, and every time I've gone to the doctor on a hangover, I'm super dehydrated and because of that, shit has gone horribly wrong. My sugar was way off once and they thought I had diabetes, my heart rate's been too high, and the thing I was worried about was my blood pressure. Well, I was right to be worried. Normally it's 120/80. It's been 120/80 for years. Today it was 150/80. I explained to the nurse that I had a "weekend of over-indulgence". She laughed and then talked of her own indiscretions. She wasn't hot so I could really have given a shit. Next she asks me if it's okay if an intern comes in to observe or something. I said fine. While I was waiting for the doctor I decided to get a flu shot. It was then I realized that the nurse wasn't joking around when she said she used to do her share of partying, because in explaining how the flu nasal mist works when it goes up your nose, she said, and this is EXACTLY what she said...
"It won't sting like coke or anything."
DID I JUST HEAR WHAT I THOUGHT I HEARD??? And the worst part was she didn't laugh when she said it. I chuckled thinking she was joking but the lack of a chuckle back either makes me think she thinks I'm a cokehead because of the high blood pressure and racing heartbeat, or she's putting her nursing salary to good use. And the intern didn't flinch either. Is "It won't sting like coke" common medical terminology these days??
That bitch don't know what she talkin' about. Coke don't sting if you eat it.
So the intern, by the way, was a 46-year old MILF straight from Wisteria Lane. (The fact that I just pulled a Wisteria Lane reference is simply for comedic purposes and you should infer nothing about my sexual preferences because of it). Anyway, she even mentions how she's got great genes and how her hair is outstanding. I'm starting to dislike her because she is talking about great hair to a bald man who looks like Clyde Drexler when he goes a few days without shaving. Anyway, the MILF actually gives me an exam which was a waste of time. She feels my shoulder blade and asks me a bunch of questions. Of course my shoulder only hurts a little so she literally says, "Well, you got me." That's encouraging. I can't wait to see what you score on your board exam because I don't think the proctors will accept "Well, you got me" as an answer to half the questions. So she leaves the room to get the doctor and I hear her tell him exactly what I just told her. He comes in, feels my shoulder blade and asks me a bunch of questions. Then he tells me that it's probably a torn muscle and to take more Advil. I say that's awesome because with all the other medications I'm on that affect the liver, my liver will be REALLY be thanking me now. Because, as most people, even laymen know, Ibuprofen if taken too much can damage the liver. Apparently I overstepped my bounds by "knowing" a little medical information, because he says:
"Actually, it damages the kidneys."
I said, "Really?" because for the life of me I always thought it damaged the liver (which it does, as I'd later look up when I got home, because I don't let shit go). But after I said "Really?" he gave me the strangest response I've ever gotten from a doctor:
"No, I'm just kidding."
Wait, what? Well then why the fuck did you say it? I was stunned. I had no idea what to take from that. He wasn't smiling, but yet he said he was kidding. Seriously, maybe dude thought I had caught him in something he should have caught, namely the interactions with all my other medications...and that because I'm already bombarding my liver with crap, maybe telling me to take ibuprofen every six hours might not be the best option, so he tells me the kidneys to throw me off, but then realized I was a lot smarter than he gave me credit for and would call bullshit on him the second I got home, which I did. I mean, maybe it does affect the kidneys, but I know for certain it can damage the liver. Anyway, it was the oddest moment of the day.
So to change the subject he moves on to my 150/80 BP. I tell him I over-indulged, and half-joking I say, well, the top-number isn't as big a deal as the bottom number anyway. He scolds me for thinking that. "Well, we've learned..." he starts with and I tune him out. At this point I trust what he's telling me as much as I trusted my uncle after too many times being lured into the shed to "help him with the gardening". Maybe we HAVE learned, but you blew it, sir, with that "I'm just kidding" bit. Then, because he refuses to prescribe an actual sleep aid like Ambien, and I told him how the first bunk ass medication he prescribed last month worked about as well to defeat insomnia as if I'd gone to bed with headphones on blasting Public Enemy's "Don't Believe the Hype" on a continuous loop, he goes on to prescribe me another anti-depressant to use as a battle against insomnia. The only problem?
One of the side-effects is insomnia.
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