Years and years ago I wrote that I'd only go to the doctor if I had a vital organ punctured by something. Or if I was losing most of my blood. And even given one of those two things, it's still a coin-flip as to whether or not I'm dragging myself to the doctor. You see, nobody has ever had this conversation with a doctor:
Doctor: Well, let's see how you're doing here, Mr. Baty.
Nate: Good news, I hope?
Doctor: Wow . . . just, wow. Did you quit smoking?
Nate: Yes . . .
Doctor: I think you should start up again. Maybe drink more, too. Maybe start drinking in the mornings.
Nate: What?
Doctor: Your health, it's just too awesome.
Nate: Too awesome?
Doctor: Too awesome.
Nate: How . . . how is that possible, doctor?
Doctor: I don't know, Nate. I just don't know.
No. You never have that conversation. You have a conversation like the one I had the pleasure of having with a nurse last week while I waiting to see a doctor about a reaction I had to a bee sting. A bee sting that, umm, punctured a major organ.
Nurse: Your blood pressure is extremely high.
Nate: LOL! No, no it isn't.
Nurse: Did you just say "LOL?"
Nate: . . .
Nurse: . . .
Nate: . . .
Nurse: Whatever. So, your blood pressure . . .
Nate: Is fine, I know.
Nurse: No, Mr. Baty. Quite the opposite in fact . . .
Nate: If it's high then that's probably a good thing.
Nurse: . . .
Nate . . .
Nurse: . . .
Nate: Like my heart's really powerful. Like a cannon.
Nurse: What?
Nate: (makes cannon noise)
Nurse: No, no, I don't think you understand how serious . . .
Nate: Seriously, though, sweetie, that's cute and all but is there maybe a, you know, "man" I could talk to?
I kid! I kid! The nurse was actually a guy. But you know I have a fondness for good old fashioned sexist jokes. Everything else is pretty much true though.
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