My Body, Myself; or, The Dangers Inherent in Maintaining a Publicly Accessible Web Log

Tonight I had my annual physical exam.

In summary:

1. Deaf ear crazy head thing: allergies. Plus maybe a little ear wax. Or Lyme's disease. OK, he threw me a bone with that last one, but I'll know after my bloodwork gets back on Friday. He told me to go to an ENT doctor, but I'm scared of their scary long metal ear wax tools.

2. No prostate exam. I even laid off the coffee this morning to make sure I didn't have any emergencies which might result in providing him with an unsanitary finger-stick experience, and in the process developed a severely severe caffeine-withdrawal headache. This leaves me with lingering doubts as to whether my frequent urination might be due to an enlarged prostate, as my friend RJ suggested in passing two months ago. It also reminds me that I am an 80 year old man who thinks about enlarged prostates too much, in addition to being an 8o year old pervert who can devote an entire paragraph to complaining about a missed prostate exam.

2.5. Speaking of which, it has been suggested that I up my daily Fiber Con intake to 4 pills. So, strike that and make it an 85 year old man.

3. As usual, I freaked out when he asked me if I was engaging in any risky sexual behaviors, and proceeded to spend my usual five minutes defending and explaining and rationalizing the absence of safety mechanisms in my monogamous 5-year relationship. As usual, his eyes glazed over as he watched the clock and once again kicked himself for asking me this question.

4. I weigh almost what I did in highschool. It can't possibly last. I bought my thyroid a dozen roses on the way home.

5. I asked M. if our (shared) doctor gives him the completely thoroughly complete genital exam he gives me, and M. says no, he doesn't think so. My penis waffles between demanding an explanation and looking at its pleasing reflection in the mirror.

Yes, yes, very funny, class..."penis waffles"...now heads on the table and quiet down.

In a nutshell: someone with my personality and predilection for developing whatever illness I happen to have heard about most recently has no business working in a hospital, or with old people, or sick people, or people in general, or in a pharmacy, or anywhere near Metamucil. Or deer ticks. Or a television set.

Did I mention the part about the highschool weight thing? Can anyone say "skinniest girl in the mental institution"?