Doctor Visit


I lost my voice one winter. It was cold out and my sinuses, as usual, were being a real dick. As soon as you get over one cold you say hello to someone and catch another one. Their cold jumps down your throat, harvests in your belly and tells your body to take a break, it’s got it from here. So I called off work, grunting over the phone that I couldn’t talk, and went to the doctor.

I sat in the waiting room for a while, then my personal room, also waiting, until the doctor came in. She was in her late 30’s or so, wearing the traditional doctor smock. I mimed my condition, pointing at my neck, making horrible sounding noises while she took my blood pressure and asked if I was nervous. This happens a lot. I wasn’t nervous. I’m rarely nervous, even when it’s appropriate, but I get the question often from doctors. I like to think it is my super power, bubbling just under the surface, waiting for the doctor to make a mistake and then pounce. Although, I don’t know what that super power is besides fooling sphygmomanometers. Probably wouldn’t put me on the first string of The Avengers.

The doctor continued with the rigmarole of tests, stopping when she checked my ears to compliment their cleanliness. I was certain that she wanted me. I left a short time later with a prescription for amoxicillin, checking and double checking the page for a hidden phone number I wouldn’t call. It wasn’t there. My voice came back by the next day thanks to the amoxicillin, but it took an extra day to shake the feeling that there was a connection between ear cleanliness and attraction. I’ve never heard a woman come right out and say it, but maybe it’s a gender secret. Maybe they are all out there talking about our ears and their waxy constituents. If they are I’m getting killer reviews.


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