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.
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
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.