Or roger-dodger, as it were.
My appointment was for 2:30 yesterday, and I got there and was called back in short order. Although not quite as short as it could be--the nurse called me, and I got up to walk back and there was a young lady who was walking in in front of me, and she seemed to surprise the nurse, who immediately began talking to her about something. I stood there patiently as they chatted, and when they finished, the nurse looked at me. "And who are you?"
"I'm Oglesby--you just called my name!"
She apologized--the girl was her daughter-in-law, and she was surprised to see her and thought something might be wrong. Golly, and here I thought it was supposed to be all about me.
Blood pressure, sit and wait, go to lab, sit and wait, go sit down and get stuck and get three tubes of blood drawn. Thankfully, it was remarkably pain free. Went back out, sat and waited. Got my numbers and went back down to the exam room. Sat and waited.
FINALLY got the doc to come in. Chatted for a while, bloodwork all looked okay, blood pressure looked okay, still seems to think I should lose weight, even though I told them I only weigh 145 pounds. He listened to my chest and back, talked about setting up a stress test sometime at some indeterminate future date (which is admittedly easier than setting up one on a past date).
"Okay, and now what about your prostate?"
"It said it was fine, and couldn't come to the phone right now." Although that was my internal monologue, the audible one wasn't much different. "If there's anyway to not, I sure would appreciate it. I realize you don't like it any more than I do [Which could be a lie, but it's one I'm willing to believe--Ed.], but I can confirm I haven't had any problems."
He seemed to waver, and I continued to plead my case as I looked at his bratwurst-sized fingers. He finally decided to get a few more blood tests and a PSA (which ain't no public service announcement) and if everything looked okay, he was willing to wait for my six month checkup.
SO, he wrote down some more tests for them to do (and luckily the phlebotomist had already drawn out enough when I first went in there) and so I had to go back and wait for a bit longer. After some paperwork on their part, I got the ol' tiny plastic cup to fill. "Right there's the restroom, just leave it in the silver-colored box."
I usually like a bit more privacy--the sample dispensing room was right beside the chair where they take blood, and there was an attractive young lady sitting in it. The chair, not the restroom. Anyway, I went on it and tried to pee as quietly as I could. There's really only two options--silent, or like an elephant after drinking 20 gallons of beer. Got a cupful, opened the little stainless steel box and EYYYEYIKES! My pee would be sharing space with the pee of the young lady sitting in the seat outside the door!
I have to say, this created a very odd feeling in me--equal parts revulsion at having my bodily fluids cohabitating with those of an unrelated person, yet also an odd sense of intimacy. I decided neither thought was truly appropriate, and settled upon allowing my competitive nature to take over, and quietly expressed no small amount of pride and satisfaction that MY sample was approximately twice the volume of hers.
Thus assured of my overwhelming superiority, I washed up and opened the door and made a concerted effort to not make any eye contact with anyone.
And that was it--paid my money and I was out the door.
SO, as long as nothing odd comes up--such as finding out my urine tests says I'm pregnant--looks like I'm okay for another few months. "Okay" being a rather elastic concept in my mind--I figure if I've strength enough to blog, things are going pretty well.
Posted by Terry Oglesby at October 3, 2006 08:46 AM