Saturday, December 01, 2007

My Physical

You know you're a grownup when you're able to make small talk while a complete stranger is prodding your junk like there was something written down there in Braille.

I love being interviewed about my health. It's nothing spectacular, but what a feeling of accomplishment to hear a huge list of possible maladies and answer I've had none. "Ever had rickets?" "No!" "Heart disease?" "Nope!" "Hearing problems?" "Never!" "Cancer?" "Nada!" "Sleep apnea?" "Nuh-uh." "Been sodomized by a European man in the middle of a bathhouse?" "Does Turkey count as Europe?" "No." "Nope!"

I'm flattered that the older I get the more parts of my body people seem to be interested in. Nooks and crannies that previously weren't getting much play nowadays are at the top of the doctor's list.

Constantly saying "Like what you see?" may seem funny in your head, but it really just makes the exam longer and more awkward.

You've got the option between complete nudity and a paper gown. Paper gown? Bullshit. I've already had to scribble my name on a paper cup full of my own urine, do I really have that much pride left to protect?

"How many times a week do you drink?" "I never drink. Now ask me how many times a week I lie to doctors."

In sum, I'll be alive for a long, long time, and will be bouncing around the universe long after wearing out my welcome.

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