Shoot Me Now! Part 2 of 2

The doc comes toward me like I was happy to see him...

"I would like to take your blood pressure," he says and wraps this cuff thing around my arm while I narrow my eyes at him and growl. My normal blood pressure is in the low range and it comes out fine; the doc's blood pressure is obviously sky high by now and I decide not to kick him... yet.

"Where did you go to medical school," I ask.

"Back East," he mumbles.

"Did you go to a real medical school or did you earn your degree online? At Google?"

"I went to a real medical school and now, I need to listen to your heart," the fool says.

"I need to see your medical school transcripts before you touch me. Did you pass everything?"

"Yes!" he shouts.

Tsk. Obviously, he slept through the course on "bedside manners 101" and "patience with patients."

I'll hold the "heart end" part of the stethoscope and you can listen," I tell him.

"Can't do it that way," he says, digging the hole he's standing in deeper.

Cowboy says to let him listen to my heart.

Hmmm...

I let him listen... he's listening a long time... I pick up the stethoscope end that's touching me and I blow into it.

Doc jumps.

"Why did you do that?" he yells.

"Would you rather I kicked you?"

Cowboy whispers in my ear and what he's whispering is that when we're alone, he's gonna burn my butt.

Truly, the man says the sweetest things.

"You really need to change into a gown," the doc says.

"Why? What's the difference between a gown and the shirt I'm wearing?"

"I can't do a breast exam when you're wearing a shirt," the easily demented man explains.

"I don't need a breast exam, thank you very much. I have two of them and both are just fine. And I get a mammogram every year and the scans are good there, too."

"It's part of the exam," he says.

Oye, I bet he flosses after every meal, too.

"I'll skip the breast exam. What else do you have to do?"

"I have to look in your mouth."

"Better not," I advise.

"Why not?"

"Because if I breathe on you, you'll disintegrate. I took anti-demon pills before I got here." (I learned that by watching "Charmed" on TNT.)

"Sir..." the doc addresses His Holiness who is rolling his eyes.

"Sar," the eye-rolling giant squid says.

"Did you go to a reputable medical school?"

"Yes," he says.

Does the man actually think I'm gonna take his word for this?

"How many bones in the human body? What do you prescribe for an upper respiratory infection? What's the difference between eczema and psoriasis? Why is a canine heartbeat slower than ours and what's the TSH range for a normal person?"

"Sir..." the doc repeats his fervent plea to my husband who has just arched a brow in my direction. This means Cowboy's patience is at an end. I'm not sure if that's because he's thinking of having one of those hand-to-my-tush discussions or he's unhappy that the doc didn't answer any of my questions.

"Why don't you wait outside, dear?" I ask.

"NO!" the doc protests.

AHA! He's afraid of me.

I love fear in a doctor.

Cowboy stays in the room and the doc gets very brave and says he wants to run a series of tests.

"What kind of tests?"

"Abdominal scan, GI series, throat cultures, that kind of thing."

I get off the table and leave the room.

"I'll wait in the car," I tell the giant squid.

"Sarrrrr."

I hear the doc tell Cowboy he'll be happy to admit me overnight if that's what it will take to get the tests done.

I hear Cowboy's answer. "You want to be reassigned to Somalia?"

There is dead quiet in the car on the ride home but Cowboy holds my hand. Once we're home, he hugs me tight and tells me he's relieved I didn't hurt the doctor but he's gonna spank me for being uncooperative.

WHAT?

"I was in the room, baby. You could have been nicer to the doctor. He didn't exactly hurt you and he barely touched you. And I forgot to tell you," he says as he reaches into his jacket pocket. "He gave me these pills for you to take before your next appointment. As soon as your blood work comes back, we're going to see him again."

I look at the pills... happy pills. Hmmm....

So... if you happen to see a story on the 6 o'clock news about a doc that requested a transfer to Somalia... you'll know I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Tsk. The man didn't even know the difference between eczema and psoriasis. Probably doesn't even know the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground. Probably doesn't even....

"Sarrrrr."

SWAT!

Tsk.

~Sar~