Thursday, July 2, 2015
Dear Diary:
The day began like any other, which is to say way too early
for my tastes. I greeted the morning with a sigh and a trip to the
“Snooze” bar. Ah, the Snooze Bar, where everyone knows your name and time
is measured in 5-minute intervals. After several such trips, I greeted
the day: “Conjunction Junction, such dysfunction…Piling up exes and
crying myself to sleep…”
It was at this time that I would usually check my calendar
to see the latest time I could get to the office without being missed. This day was different, however, because I
knew the exact time of my earliest appointment.
Was this due to a sudden bout of conscientiousness? Not at all.
My earliest appointment was my annual physical, and the reason I knew
that, other than the fact that I had fasted the night before, was that it was
the key to unlocking monies what were owed me.
My employer has a healthy-living incentive program (known as
“Be Well”) that awards employees a certain number of points for accomplishing
specified tasks. These points translate
into cash. To this point, I had accumulated
enough points to earn $100. The catch:
before you can receive any of the cashish, you have to complete an online Health
Assessment and either a biometric screening or full physical. To lessen the blow of having to jump through
hoops to receive monies you had already jumped through hoops to earn, the
company gives you $50 for completing a biometric screening or full physical.
After getting
dressed, and I do mean dressed: black, cotton undershirt with moisture-wicking
properties, a long-sleeved, lavender dress shirt, black dress slacks with thin
pinstripes, argyle socks, dress watch, and silver-rimmed sunglasses; I grabbed
my laptop bag and made my way towards “Steph”.
[Editor’s Note: Yes, he put on
underwear, as well, but this is a family-oriented blog, and he’s a
gentleman. Besides, if you want to know
what kind of underwear he has on, you’ll need to buy him dinner first…Gentleman.] After nestling into the cocoon of subtle
luxury that can only be crafted by the artful hands of a Brit, I fired up the
engine and headed towards my place of employ.
My journey ground to a halt almost as quickly as it had
begun. For before I could make it to the
first stop sign, my progress was impeded by a cat that had decided to stretch
out in the middle of the road. I could
not move forward, even slowly, lest the cat move unexpectedly and end up under
one of my tires. This would, in turn,
result in several of my female friends putting me underneath one (or more?) of
their tires. I could not back up and
proceed in the other direction lest some other vehicle come along and hit the
defenseless animal, which would, somehow, be my fault, and, once again, result
in bodily injury. No, my only option was
to stay put until the cat decided to move.
“You could always get out of the car and move the cat to a
nearby yard,” a voice in my head suggested.
“Forget that,” I responded. “I’ve seen ‘Cat People’. Not
turning me into an undead slave of a feline demon spawn. No, thank you…”
“First of all, if you’re referring to the 1982 film starring
Nastassja Kinski –“
“I am.”
“—I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the plot. Secondly, what?!?”
Steph suddenly jerked forward at an angle to block off the
street. One cat protecting another. While waiting, I recognized this as the cat
that liked to gently rub herself against my cars, let out a purr, and take a
nap in the shade just underneath them.
When the cat finally got tired of being a…cat, it got up, looked over at
me, gave a wry smile, and bounded safely across the street.
“Dammit!” I exclaimed. “Look at the time!” Getting to my appointment on time would require some good
fortune and some fancy driving.
“Dear God, please give me green lights, clear roads, and no
cops.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how prayer works,” a voice remarked.
“Worth a shot.”
“Eh…”
As I approached the first of eight traffic lights between my
house and VA 288, I noticed it was green.
However, the speed limit was 25 mph, and I was too far away to make it.
“Guess the voice was right.”
Even though I couldn’t make the light, I could make a right
turn before the other cars got going, and pop a quick U up the road…and that’s
exactly what I did.
“Please be green, please be green, please be green…” I
muttered while approaching the bank of lights again. It worked.
Seemingly the only person who realizes that the speed limit in this area
is 55 rather than 45, I channeled my inner “Rush” (the Ron Howard-directed epic
about Formula 1, not the overhyped, Canadian power band) and powered up the
hill past several slow-moving cars.
Halfway to 288, I found myself trapped behind a driver who apparently
thought it was a 35mph zone, and beside a driver intent on not letting me
pass. (That’s 0 for 2 in the Prayer Department,
which, interestingly enough, is next to handbags and man-totes.)
When the lane two lanes over opened up, I switched channels
from “Rush” to “Return of the Jedi”. And
like Luke Skywalker evading his pursuers in the jungles of Endoor [Nerd], I slammed on my brakes, got
behind the driver to my right, and made my way past. Still, no cops.
I made it to my appointment with time to spare. No
cops. As they say, “One out of three ain’t
bad.” [No one says that.]
After checking in and filling out the standard paperwork, I
sat and waited to be called.
“Mr. McCloud?”
“Yes.”
“We’re ready for you.”
“You sure about that?”
“Put your bag in the chair, take your shoes off, and step on
the scale.”
I did as instructed.
After stepping off the scale, I looked back and noticed that the reading
was higher than expected. For some
reason, when I get weighed at a doctor’s office, not only do I leave everything
on, I leave everything in…as in in my pockets.
Next up: The Eye Test
“Put your belongings into the exam room and come back out.”
Again, I did as instructed.
While heading toward the nurse, my eye caught a petite blonde heading
over to one of the other exam rooms.
“I need you to turn around, Mr. McCloud.”
“I’m good.”
“We need to test your vision.”
“Can’t you just have her hold up her number and see if I can
read it?”
Overhearing our conversation, the woman turned towards me,
smiled, and raised her middle finger.
“I don’t think that’s her number,” I remarked.
“Can you read it?” the nurse asked.
“It’s not my first time receiving that signal.”
“You?!? But you’re
such a charmer,” she says while rolling her eyes. “Now, turn around, put this
over your left eye, and read as far down as you can.”
I completed the eye test per her instructions: right eye…left
eye…both eyes.
“You look good.”
“Well, a compliment.
Finally.”
“What? Sorry, I meant ‘you see well’. English isn’t my strong suit.”
“Let’s continue.”
Next Up: Invasive Questioning
We headed back into the exam room for the medical
interrogation.
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Dating anyone?”
“No.”
“Do you have anyone that knows your wishes in the event of a
medical emergency that prevents you from being able to speak for yourself?”
“You mean like erase my porn and clear my browser history?”
“More like do not resuscitate or things along those lines.”
“Do not resuscitate?
What the hell do you plan on doing to me in here?”
“I see your dad has Diabetes. Have you ever been checked?”
“I assume so.”
“We’ll do a more comprehensive hemoglobin test.”
“Let me check something,” she said as grabbed my wrist. I assume to check my pulse…or to slit my
wrist. Coulda been either one with this nurse. “Anyone ever tell you that you
have an irregular heartbeat?”
“No.”
“Just breathe normally. I’m going to listen to your heart
for a minute to see if I hear anything concerning.”
(Not five seconds
later, she removed her stethoscope from my chest.) “Okay. I know that wasn’t a minute, but I heard what
I needed to right away. I know you’ve
had this done recently, but I’m going to do an EKG. First, however, I need to take your blood
pressure…It’s slightly elevated.”
“You ask me about Do Not Resuscitate orders, bring up
Diabetes, and say there may be something wrong with my heart. Can’t imagine why
my blood pressure would be elevated.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay. Get undressed down to your underwear, and put on the
gown so that it opens in the front.”
Next Up: EKG
(A knock at the door)
“You decent?”
“It’s a matter of opinion.”
“Lay back. I’m gonna
put these pads and leads on you. It’ll tell us how your heart’s doing…That’s
odd. This doesn’t seem to be picking up
any activity.”
“Forgot to tell you, my heart’s on the other side.”
“That’s funny. Do you
have on lotion?”
“Do essential oils count as lotion?”
“Yes.”
“Then, no.”
“I don’t much care for you.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Are you wearing a Fitbit or other device?”
“I’m in my underwear.
Where exactly do you think I put a Fitbit?”
“I know where I’d like to put it.”
“I get that a lot, too.”
“The doctor will be with you shortly.”
Next Up: The Doctor Is In
(A knock at the door) “Hello, Mr. McCloud. Your EKG looks fine. The machine seems to be acting up, but, other
than that, your heart is fine. Strong.”
“That nurse had me worried that I
was this close to a heart attack.”
“Yeah. She doesn’t much care for
you…Let’s check your numbers.”
“Before we do that, can I be re-weighed?”
“Why?”
“I had a lot of stuff in my
pockets that I believe adversely impacted the results.”
“What did you have in your
pockets?”
“Pack of gum—“
“That’s not gonna tip the scales.”
“…wallet—“
“Let me see your wallet…Why do you
have seventeen ones? Where are you
planning to go after you leave here?”
“Would you believe church?”
“Would you?”
“Not particularly…car keys, watch,
two cellphones, sunglasses, ankle weights.”
“Ankle weights?”
“Ankles aren’t gonna build
themselves.”
“The answer is ‘no’. Now, let’s
check these numbers…Whoa! That’s not
good.”
“What’s not good?”
“Laptop’s not working. Be right back.”
After collecting my thoughts and
making sure I didn’t wet myself, I waited quietly for her return.
“Alright. This seems to be working
better. If you want to fix your laptop, just steal someone else’s. Stealing’s not the right word. I commandeered it.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself. Can we get back to me now?”
“So, it’s all about you?”
“Ummm…yeah.”
“You have a point. While I'm waiting for your numbers to come up,
anything special planned for the 4th?”
“No. I’m going on a 3-week,
cross-country, round-trip, road trip in the near. So, I’m getting ready for that.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Yeah. My parents don’t like to
talk about it, because they think something bad’s gonna happen.”
“I have a daughter your age, and—“
(My right eyebrow raises, as if to say, “Go on…”)
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Seventeen ones ring a bell?”
“You have a point.”
“Okay. Numbers are up. Let’s see what we have here. Family history. Check. Blood pressure. Check…Ever
suffered from Erectile Dysfunction?”
“Me? No…Some of my dates
have. Am I right? Up top…No?
Nothing?” (Arm returns slowly to
my side)
“Do I need to test you for HIV or
STDs?”
“Really covering the spectrum,
aren’t we? And no…”
“Do you check yourself regularly
for testicular cancer?”
(Eyes looking to the left towards non-existent camera.) “Sure…that’s…yes.”
“Any blood in your stool or
tenderness in your rectum?”
“I’ve been called ‘tender’, but
not in my rectum.”
“I’m gonna do couple of quick
checks. Nostrils are clear, eyes look
good, ears have a bit of excess wax, but your eardrums look good, lungs are
strong, tonsils and teeth look good.
Could use a breath mint, but..Great!
Well, that’s all I need.”
“Wait…What? That’s it?!?!
Nothing else?”
“Well, I did break the pull tab
off of my soup and was going to ask if I could use your toenail to open the
can, but that doesn’t seem sanitary.”
“No hernia check?!?! No prostate exam?!?!? Why do I pay for health insurance???? I got dressed! I groomed!
Is this Obamacare, because, if so, I, for one, am NOT a fan!”
“Did you shave another Nativity
scene in your pubic hair?”
“No.”
“Fine. What is it?...Don’t touch
those lights!”
(Grand Reveal…Though it would’ve been more grand with the proper light
effect.)
“Impressive…and I minored in Art
History. So…What am I looking at now?”
“Did you ever see ‘Breakin’?”
(She cocks her head to the side and raises an eyebrow as if to say, “Is
that a serious question?”)
“Remember when Turbo got injured
falling down the stairs after being chased by the construction worker? This is Turbo lying in bed with a cast on his
arm and foot held up by a pulley; that’s Kelly and Ozone pretending to be
doctors; and that’s the cute Puerto Rican girl who cared for Turbo and didn’t
want him to check himself out prematurely.
‘No, Turrrbo…No...’” [Editor’s
Note: It loses something when you can’t hear him saying the words, but, trust
me, his impersonation is spot on.] “I
was going to do the scene at the end when the rival break dancers were working
together to save the Community Center with a young ICE-T on the mic, but I ran
outta pube.”
“Is that why you canceled your last
appointment?”
“Needed to ‘re-blank my canvas’. Another option was Questlove, but he started
looking more like Cornel West.”
“Give it a few more years, and he would look like Frederick
Douglas. Am I right? Up top!
No? Nothing? Fine. Go see the
nurse and give a blood and urine sample.
Preferably separately.”
“Can I get an at-risk pregnancy test? That’s worth extra cash-ish in the Be Well.”
“That’s for women…and you’re not pregnant”
“Really? Seems
racist.”
“It’s not racist. If
anything, it’s sexist.”
“Isn’t sexism just gender racism?” I ask whilst smirking and
tapping my right temple.
“Get out.”
All in all, another great physical. Looking forward to next year.
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