Helpful Doctor: What symptoms do you seem to have?
Me: All.
HD: For what? It says upper respiratory...[consulting what I think is the paperwork I just spent 20 minutes completing, myself, squinting, because my monkey is totally selfish and said he doesn't want to catch what I have - yet, really, it's not the paperwork at all but a golf-themed connect-the-dots][I never know this.]
Me: Sure.
HD: When I press here [temple squish] how does it feel?
Me: Like a little slice of heaven.
HD: How about here? [pressing over uppercheeks, steadily harder]
Me: Like my head is a giant grool-filled balloon and my brains are about to be violently expelled through my ears. Ever seen a baby blow out a diaper? [Look in eye. Response: irrelevant.] That is how that feels.
HD: Okay. Won't push there anymore. Don't need to. [Forced jovial demeanor.] (But if I did, Subject DNM, you couldn't move fast enough. There'd be no running. Tommy would have your ass strapped down before you could sneeze.)
Me: ACHOOOOO! Ugh. Sorry. Ugh. And. Ack. [Wipes nose with hand. Waits for tissue.] (Aren't they supposed to lecture/care about germs? I want my mom. I want hugs. Huuuugggsssss.) [whimper]
HD: Lots of pressure in your head?
Me: I think some of it's coming from the outside, too.
HD: [suspicious - read: disassociative - silence]
Me: Okay, I'll expand upon that. Elucidate. Radiate. Compensate. Try not to hate. Love your mate. Youth's irate? [Still no reaction.] Mediate? [yawn] Um, ya, so my eyes are all puffy, like I want to take them out, irrigate my eye sockets and hopefully also my entire sinus cavity, let a warm summer breeze run through it, then - and only then - return my chamomile-soaked and cucumber-essence-cooled eyeballs back to their proper sockets. It would be noticeable if they were turned around, right? Not that it matters. Don't look at me like that.
HD: Strange. You don't have a fever.
Me: Stranger, you don't know what I have. You don't know what you have. Right here. But what don't I have that's been missing all these livelong years? I know there's something, but...what, doc? What?
HD: There's no Oracle space in the billing. Sorry. Think you're set.
Me: Can you do one of those breast cancer exams, the nice one, when you sort of walk your fingers all over them? That feels like warm butter. Seriously. I think it'll help. No takers? Can we get someone else in here?
[HD exits.]I think how clean my hair feels. So light. So unfettered with care of its appearance, and leave. The bill: $480. The futility: endless.
Time to make the donuts! And disinfect my keyboard!
Monday, February 05, 2007
mban, amb i mbiserable
It's a sinus/cold thing. We know this. A doc visit isn't necessary, BUT if I were to go to one, the conversation might go something like this today:
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6 comments:
"Doc, I don't suppose you do those old-fashioned pelvic massages? It wouldn't cure my sinuses, but it would show a good-faith effort on your part to uphold your Hippopotamus oaf. Prescribe a regimen for the good of your patient! Me!"
(The idea of asking for a breast exam for comfort-purposes is HILARIOUS to me.)
But I'm sorry you're a sickie, Miles Friendish.
I'm not above this.
How Victorian "medicine"/Rasputin of you to suggest, though. (Wait. That's what your link is! M'duh - like you wouldn't be well-versed in the old "but this will make you feel better" routine.)(Hm. I was always told 'hysteria' meant 'wandering womb.' Wikipedia, you aren't being very clear here.)
[Applause.]
The phrase "wandering womb" definitely rings a bell. Wait, I can't hear the bell anymore cuz my meandering uterus just blocked my ears. My fallopes and my eustachian tubes just merged into one MEGA-TUBE! Totally tubular!
--> Tubular Bells --> Trans-Siberian Orchestra --> Rasputin!
Six Degrees of Rasputin: now that's a challenging game. Eat it, Bacon.
If they can market K. Fed, we can market THAT game.
But we'll have to move quickly. I just heard my womb knocking on my diaphragm (the inborn one), which can clearly only mean it's about to try to strangle me.
Motion to change the meaning of "Double-D's" to "Double Diaphragms."
Seriously, how do people use those 'other' ones and not giggle at the thought?
"Oh YES. YES. Um, hold on. One sec." [fumble, fumble]
"It's in?"
"It's like an eardrum in there. Ya. Try to deafen...my, erm, vaginear?"
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