The Procrastinator's Guide to Physical Exams

This week, I went for my annual physical... for the first time in twenty years. I know it's important for a man my age to stay healthy, but I just hate that whole laundry list of procedures that they do.

First, I had to make an educated decision as to which doctor in my PPO to use. After a lengthy investigation into each of them, I decided to use the one who was closest to me. Looking at the degrees posted on his office wall, I questioned my decision. He graduated from Washington State University and Lumber Mill Camp. He was "board certified"...twice.

Right away, I knew he didn't know what he was doing. I mean, it took him forever to adjust those stirrups. On the up side, my pap smear came back negative.

The first procedure he performed was taking my blood pressure, which he said was dangerously low. "How low?" I inquired. He said that if it were any lower, he was going to cancel the examination and order an autopsy.

Next, he checked my ears by shining a light into one ear that was so bright, I'm sure the illumination was going through my head and shining on the wall, as guests from the waiting room came in and took turns making shadow puppets. He asked me if I ever had a ring in my ears. I said, "I've never been able to get my finger in that far." He didn't find this amusing.

Then he checked my breathing with a stethoscope with which he apparently had recently used to check the breathing of a block of ice.

He then had me sit on the edge of the table, so that he could test my reflexes by tapping my knees with a little rubber mallet. Well, we both learned something that day. He learned that when performing this procedure, it is unwise to straddle the patient's foot. And, I learned that my doctor has a lovely singing voice.

Then he handed me a cup the size of a thimble and told me that he wanted a urine sample, so that he could test it for sugar. I suggested that he might enjoy a Pepsi more. This, also, did not amuse him.

I was then instructed to go into the next room for x-rays. This procedure wasn't too bad, other than having to stand in front of a screen with my hands on my hips, like I was posing for Interior Decorator of the Year.

Next, it was time for the blood tests. This young lady who took my blood either had recently broken up with her boyfriend and she was thinking that all men were scum, or I was her first patient. After about forty attempts of her trying to draw blood, I asked her, "Are you drawing blood, or performing acupuncture? What are you doing?" I mean, I would have had better luck having blood drawn by Stevie Wonder.

Then, it came time for the examination that all men dread. I wasn't expecting it. I just know, I saw the doctor go over to a drawer, pull out a rubber glove and slipped it over his hand in a wiggling fashion. I looked at him and said, "I hope this means you're planning on doing a puppet show." He said, "I am. I'm going to recreate an episode of Star Trek...DEEP Space Nine." I wouldn't say this procedure was too personal, but in several countries, we would be considered engaged to be married. (Several countries and San Francisco, that is.)

Two days later, I returned for my results. I was expecting to hear the worst. I figured that God was going to punish me for not having an examination in twenty years.

First, the doctor told me that I needed to lose a little weight. Well, Jenny Craig could have told me that. He also told me that I needed to exercise, which meant more than just pushing buttons and writing tasteless jokes about the medical profession. What a relief.

As I walked through the waiting room, I thought about all that I had been through. I looked at all those people in the waiting room and wondered how many of them were about to experience the same euphoria I experienced. How many were going to find out how important their health really means to them? That they, too, would get the good news that they had a new lease on life? That an annual checkup was the key to a long existence?

I stopped at the door and looked back. I saw the young lady who took my blood pass by and thought, "I doubt if she'll be here in twenty years."