Miss Brazil

I first took notice of a lump the size of a beer nut about a week ago.  It was on my right buttock about an inch-and-a-half due west of my anus.  I was barely aware that it was there at the beginning but as the days passed it grew to the size of a walnut and the degree of inflammation, pressure and pain increased daily.  The idea of going to see a doctor to have it taken care of terrified me, so I tried to ignore it and kept wishing that it would disappear.  It was only after things reached a point where I could not bear to sit, stand or lie down that I phoned a local urgent care clinic.

Despite never having been to the clinic before I was grateful to find that they could schedule me for that afternoon.  The receptionist said I would be seen by a physician’s assistant named Jessica whose last name was unpronounceable and contained two-thirds of the letters in the alphabet.  I was so desperate I didn’t hesitate one second to accept the appointment knowing that in a few short hours I would be sticking my ass in the face of a woman who was a complete stranger.

I have to say I definitely thought about the fact that I was going to be seen by a female.  I think it was less a case of me being prudish than my never having been examined or treated by anyone other than male physicians.  I checked the internet patient reviews and they were all very positive, but I still had some reservations about Jessica’s last name.  It was definitely East European and I pictured a Ukrainian shot putter amped up on steroids with a bedside manner that matched nurse Ratched.

As I drove over to the clinic the 

pain was surpassed by the 

mounting fear that washed 

over me.  I couldn’t stop visualizing various horrifying procedures that I was about to have unleashed upon me by a former gulag torture queen.  The exterior of the building which housed the clinic did little to improve my outlook.  It was a small nondescript stand-alone, one-story structure located at the west end of a strip mall that looked as though it was originally a tire store.

Upon entering the reception area I was given several forms to fill out, being I was a new patient.  When I finished, instead of Jessica, a male nurse directed me back to a small exam room where he took my blood pressure and as he was leaving the room told me that someone would be along in a few minutes to check me out.  Because the nurse had been a male I began to think that someone in authority had determined that given the type and location of my complaint that my case had been reassigned to a male.

After a few minutes there was a gentle knock on the door and in stepped Jessica.  Despite being a life long atheist I began to think that not only was there a God but he had taken great care in crafting a plan just for me.  Jessica was pleasant, intelligent and resembled the typical South American entrant in the Miss Universe contest.  I explained to her what and where the problem was and answered some questions she posed.  Then as casually as pageant participants voice their desire to work for world peace, she said, “let’s take a look.”

I did my best to be nonchalant about the whole affair but as she began to poke and prod I sensed the need for an ice breaker.  I said, “I can’t recall ever having met someone for the first time under similar circumstances.”  To which she replied, “God, isn’t that the truth.”

I think it best to forego any of the details from this point forward regarding the medical procedure.  Suffice it to say that in the talent competition Miss Brazil demonstrated the proper method for draining an abscess. 

Thirty minutes after I arrived at the clinic I was back in my car on the way to the pharmacy.  I couldn’t tell which I was happiest about - that the pain and discomfort were completely gone, or that I had a follow up appointment in 4 days.  I can’t wait to ask her if she’s one of those people who can never forget a face.