Wednesday - March 04, 2009
I have a really great doctor, who I see once a quarter for a checkup. That’s a good idea for anyone my age or anyone with my bad habits and vices. He keeps me in check and is pretty realistic about my lifestyle. He is genuinely concerned about my well-being, as I’m sure he is with all his patients.
Whenever my appointment comes around, I start to get anxious. It’s like I’m going to take the SATs or a lie detector test. That’s because my own body will testify against me by way of a blood test and when I jump on the dreaded scale. There’s no hiding what those reveal.
My last appointment was a mixed bag. My blood workup was mediocre and could always be better, but there were no alarms except for one. There were some elevated levels of something, so a few days after the checkup, my doctor called to schedule me for an Ultrasound.
The last time I was anywhere near an Ultrasound procedure it was for my wife, who was pregnant with our daughter. Since there was no cutting, needle poking, drinking Barium or enemas involved, I felt OK about getting the procedure.
My appointment was to be at the imaging center at the adjoining hospital. I was to report there on a Saturday morning, so I went by myself as my wife and daughter had something to do. The waiting area was fairly crowded, but I found an open seat next to an obviously pregnant woman and her little boy.
She recognized me from MidWeek, so we started conversing. I volunteered that I was there for an Ultrasound and she said she was there for the same thing. I couldn’t help noticing that her little boy kept staring at me.
Then the precious little guy asked his mother out loud, “Mommy, is that man going to have a baby like you?” I don’t know if he asked that because we were having the same procedure done or because he was comparing our stomachs. It was probably the latter.
Embarrassed, his mother hushed him and lifted him onto her lap. She instructed him to watch the TV, which was mounted on the wall in front of us. She said nothing further to me and just stared at the TV. The show we were watching just so happened to have a news story on the now-famous octuplets.
Not wanting another innocent comparison from her son, she stood up with him in tow and left the area. Wow, when someone compares me with a woman pregnant with eight babies, that’s time for me to start a serious diet.
E-mail this story | Print this page | Comments (0) | Archive | RSS Comments (0) |
Most Recent Comment(s):