September 23, 2010
(Alternate title had some Olivia Newton John lyrics involved, but I didn’t want to be responsible for getting a crappy 80’s song stuck in your head all day, you’re welcome.)
I thought that getting a physical should be on my 30-to-do list.
Mainly because I’ve never really had a physical before, and I want to have some confirmation that I am a superior human being.
There’s something about answering those questions that make me feel empowered:
Do you smoke?
Do you do drugs?
I said no.
Are you on any prescription medication?
Are you allergic to any medication?
Zing. I feel awesome.
The doctor did the normal stuff. She looked in my ears, mouth, and eyeballs.
She checked my reflexes, and then I almost kicked the doctor in her lady junk, and laughed out loud.
What? That was funny!
When someone almost kicks you in the pelvic region because they have super amazing reflexes, that’s funny.
She didn’t get my ‘brand’ of humor.
Then I had to place my urine in the special door.
And that was pretty much it.
It was very anti-climatic.
I donno, I envisioned myself jogging on a treadmill with those EKG stickers all over my chest. I had it all planned out that I would set the treadmill really fast, and let my paper dress dance and crinkle in the wind. And everyone would exclaim how insanely fast I was on a treadmill, but really it was the paper dress that made me look so fast. All that crinkling and dancing makes a girl appear speedy, you know.
And I envisioned myself at a white desk taking a series of logic tests.
Humm…what’s another word for remarkable?
After the logic tests, I would take an artistic and rhythmic movement test. Which I would pass with flying colors because Wow, I can artistically and rhythmically move like nobody’s business. Turn on the Safety Dance and watch me go!
But no such tests.
How can those doctors really asses me physically if they don’t watch me rhythmically move?
Or ask me to simultaneously pat my head and rub my belly?
If I were a doctor, and you were coming to me for a physical, I’d take that seriously. I’d probably want a stool sample, and I’d want to look in your cupboards and your fridge. I’d want you to touch your toes, and attempt a headstand, I’d want you to tell me how you defrost your salmon, and what you do to unwind after a long day. I’d interview everyone in your family and ask them about your snacking habits. I’d stick you in one of those big white tubes and check out all your organs. I’d give you healthy living tips, and make you join the gym. I would be thorough. No stone unturned.
I would totally rock at being a doctor.