Everything is wrong with me
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
getting a physical, hoping not to show off my balls
I love going to the doctor's. This is because I'm kind of a hypochondriac, so it's the only time I feel totally safe. When I learned that my new place on the Upper East Side has a hospital around the corner, I almost requested that we get an apartment on the first floor, so in case anything happens to me (choking because I tried to stuff a whole slice of pizza in my mouth in one shot, poisoned because I drank a whole bottle of NyQuil and a six-pack of Red Bulls on a dare, etc), I can be easily transported to the hospital and safety.

Today, I went to the doctor's to get a physical. I haven't had a full, standard physical in about five years, so I figured it was time.

My doctor happens to be the worst doctor in the world. Well, I can't say that for sure, because there are probably some Shaman doctors in Madagascar or some of those Mexico-type countries that are worse, but he's definitely the worst in the tri-state area. However, since his practice is situated in the middle of the downtown financial district, patients will continue to see him out of convenience.

He also has a cadre of young female medical students at his disposal. My roommate Ben warned me about this, because he had to go to him for something last week and was greeted by a reasonably attractive student in her mid-20's.

The thought of having a reasonably attractive med student in her mid-20's give me a physical was, to say the least, discomforting. Bear in mind, I am a man whose only goal during sex is not to please the woman unfortunate enough to be present or even to please himself, but to keep as many clothes on as possible.

In this state I went to the doctor's today, and sure enough, Racquel, a 26 year-old med student at Albany, came into the room.

I immediately tensed up, but I was able to relax a bit over time, making small talk and stupid jokes. And she seemed pretty cool - as long as she stayed away from "the goods", I knew we wouldn't have a problem.

We talked about where we went undergrad, and I asked her a lot about med school, and it occurred to me, "I'm flirting with this girl, and she's seconds away from putting her hands on my balls." At that point, she said, "Can you lay down please?"

Fuck. This is the point where the doctor usually checks the abdomen and the balls (at least from what I remember from my last physical). So I laid down, and as she prepared to lift my "gown", she said:

Girl med student: "Are you wearing underwear?"
Me: "Wait - what day is it?"
GMS: [confused] "Um, Tuesday?"
Me: "Ok, then yes. Yes I am."

Then we all had a laugh and she gave me a vicious blowjob.

Ok, that didn't happen. That would have been REALLY cool if it did though.

What did happen is that she wound up not checking my balls (just checked my stomach), which is fine with me. She asked if I had any "testicular problems or sexual malfunctions or problems" and I was tempted to say, "Well, I don't think I have any sexual malfunctions or problems, but you might want to ask some of the quote-unquote 'ladies' that I've been with who might disagree with me."

One other thing: prior to going into the office: I filled out a form in the waiting room about what problems I've had, allergies, symptoms, etc. One of the questions was, "Do you drink?" Yes. The follow-up was, "How much?" I wasn't sure what to put or how to quantify what I drank, so I put "a goodly amount", mostly because I really like the word "goodly."

Racquel didn't catch this the first time around, and after she left and I was dressing, she came back and knocked on the door and said,

Racquel: "I noticed on the form that you wrote that you drank 'a goodly amount' - can you explain that a little bit?"
Me: "Well, I didn't know how to quantify it - do you want a day? a week?"
Racquel: "Let's say a week - how many drinks do you have a week?"
Me: "That depends on the week really. The weather's been nice and my friends and I have been going out a lot, so that inflates the number a lot..."
Racquel: "Just the average."
Me: "I don't know...if I go out three nights a week, I'd say I'd have fifty drinks."
Racquel: [silence for about three seconds] "Fifty?"
Me: "Yeah - but it takes a lot to get me drunk."
Racquel: "Is this something you want to continue?"
Me: "Drinking? Pretty much, yeah."

Stupid move. I got a lecture for the next five minutes about the hazards of drinking from a girl who's a year older than me, and who obviously doesn't drink, probably because the one time she did in college she got way too drunk and wound up giving a guy a blowjob in the cafeteria bathroom and has regretted it ever since. It was at this point that I realized that Racquel and I could never be together. Too bad.

But overall, except for a little bit of high blood pressure, I am in amazingly good health. Keep in mind that this is just physical health though - the jury is still out on the psychological/emotional/mental health status.

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