I really don’t like going to the doctor. It’s an unnerving experience. First, they make you wait in that big waiting hall. That’s ok – I can read the latest medical journals and brush up on my microbiology research. Those magazines and their articles on the latest study done on cancer rates of Himalayan rats are so interesting. What I hate is waiting in that little room they take you into when your name comes up. Now you got nothing to do but stare at the wall, where one brightly colored poster cheerfully announces “You may have Hepatitis B already!” Wow, gee thanks.
My doctors can be the sort of Jekyll and Hyde characters. One hardly speaks 5 words.
How are you? … OK… You have *insert random disease here* … take 2 teaspoons of *insert random scribble on notepad here* and see if the symptoms disappear in two weeks. NEXT!
Or there’s the other one. He seems to spend all the time with you – which is good – unless you happen to be waiting in that little room staring at the Hepatitis B poster while you can hear the doctor in the next room talking about his stock portfolio to the patient before you.
Today I got the second doctor, and thankfully the clinic was virtually empty. I was the last patient, and I had only come to get his signature on some form. He beckoned me to step into his office and took the form.
“Ah, you.” He pretended to recognize me while perusing through my file. “How come I don’t see you here more often? You last came two years ago! You should come more often.”
Wow, really? Sorry doctor, I will make a better effort. I didn’t realize one had to get sick so often.
“The clinic’s virtually empty.” I tried to make small talk. “I seem to be the last one in today!”
“Ya, and you are not even sick!” My doctor actually seemed sad at that fact. “It must mean the guy at the pharmacy downstairs must actually be reading my prescriptions correctly.”
He turned to me, expecting a laugh.
“Ha. Ha.” I said, finally getting it, and hoping he was really joking.
“I should get the car serviced if no one comes after you.” My doctor signed my form. “Can’t get my wife to take it to the mechanic for me.”
“Oh.” I uttered, not knowing what to say.
“Yah, she can’t drive manual. It’s a stickshift.”
“Oh,” I nodded.
The doctor stood up and winked at me.
“WHY do you think I got a stickshift? HAHAHA....!”
My goodness. Maybe I have something to learn from this guy after all …