What's Up Doc?

I don't go to the doctor. I know that's a bold statement, but for the most part it's true. If I injure myself, (which seems to be happening with greater frequency) or sprout some tonsil related infection in my over worked throat, I will head to an emergency room or urgent care center, get a prescription and go on about my business. The fine health care professionals always ask me the name of my "primary care physician" and I always look at the floor, shuffle my feet and mumble, "I don't have one". For years I have worn my physician less status as a badge of honor. "I don't get sick" has always been my mantra, my boastful, youthful rant. Now, like so many things from my youth, (Pixie stix, all night parties, parachute pants) I am setting my protestations aside and getting myself a "Primary Care Physician".

"Good Lord Brian, is something the matter? Are you ill? Have you been overtaken by male pattern baldness or eczema?" Not to worry. I'm fine as far as I know, but since I am on the business side of 40, I decided it was time to add a medical professional to my staff of "people", bringing the grand total to two. My friends have all been getting tests and physicals for years, and since you know my competitive nature, you can imagine my chagrin at being left out of the loop. I would grow green with envy listening to my outwardly healthy pals discuss MRIs, stress tests and various fluid samples they were asked to give. I had to get involved in this whole health care craze. I'm also a little paranoid and figure it's better to spot some horrible malady in advance rather than waiting for it to befall me.

Harder than deciding to see a doctor is deciding what doctor to see. That last sentence had a Dr. Seuss feel to it didn't it? Anyway, after looking at the list of physicians provided my my insurance company I had no clue and was ready to just throw a dart and trust my future health to my questionable aim. Thankfully, in mid toss, my friend called and asked what I was up to. After giving her the usual litany of made up tasks, I told her of my search. "You should see my doctor, he's great." fantastic, a recommendation. Once I made sure this guy wasn't some "Chic Doctor" who would diagnose my bloating. I made an appointment.

Last week, in preparation for my physical I had to get blood work done. That sounds like something out of The Godfather or Soldier of Fortune magazine. I'm unnaturally skittish getting blood drawn, but I was able to hold myself together and give up two viles of my potent plasma. I didn't know I would be asked to fill a cup with another sample, and that proved problematic. The nurse gave me a Dixie Cup with "Urine Sample" in large letters on the side and pointed me to a small restroom right next to the reception desk. I will confess to having what we men call "shy bladder". After about five minutes, I knew this experiment was going to have to wait. I told the nurse, who at this time was the only other person in the office, and sat down with a magazine. As the other ladies on the office staff arrived, Nurse Loose Lips told them why a giant man was reading Marie Claire in the waiting room. About twenty minutes into my reading, I stared getting asked the tough questions. "Are you ready yet? Do you Want to try again? You know, we only need a little." If I was under pressure before, now I was like Atlas trying to hold a globe while filling a cup. I decided to try again. As I stood in the rest room praying for flow, I could hear all the nurses right outside the door. I'm sure they weren't listening to me, but in my mind, my sample was the primary topic of conversation. After what seemed like hours of running the faucet, thinking of crashing waves, and kegs of beer, my job was done and I slunk out of the office a broken but empty man.

Today is the day of the physical. I'm sure there will be more humiliating tests involving fingers etc., but it has to be done. Who knows, I might like it and decide that I'm one of those people who goes to the doctor all the time. If that's the case, I'll drink plenty of water before my visit. Later...Brian