Let's Get Physical

I’ve always been very good at keeping with the schedule.

I get my teeth cleaned every six months.

I get my bills paid on time.

And I get my oil changed every 5,000 miles.

In fact, I’m writing this blog in the waiting room while that oil is being changed.

I’m also very regular at getting an annual physical.

That’s what I did yesterday.

Can you tell I have a lot of time on my hands?

Before I turned 40 the annual physical was little more than a cough here.

Say aaahhh there.

Oh how times have changed.

I can only hope the car people check under the hood as well as my doctor did.

She started with the usual.

The urine test.

A test I didn’t need to study for.

And like most of my exams in college, I passed.

But barely.

“You need to drink more water,” she said.

Check.

They checked my height.

Still the same.

And my weight.

Down ten pounds from the start of my diet.

Boo-yeah.

Then she asked if anything hurt.

Talk about opening a can of worms.

But somehow I resisted.

She then went through her series of tests.

Temp.   Good.

Ears and throat.  Good.

Blood pressure.   Low.

Amazing.

Then, that sound.

The snap of the rubber gloves.

The sound that says “you are not as young as you used to be.” 

At home those rubber gloves mean cleaning the dishes.

Or the garden.

At the doctor’s office, the snap of the rubber gloves means it is time to check the pipes.

So much for 40 being the new 30.

Like my car mechanic, the good doctor checked everything from front to back.

In that order.

When I got home I told my kids about “those” tests.

They thought it was funny.

“Oh, you just wait,” I thought.

They really liked the part where I told them the doctor said, “ok, you are going to feel some pressure.”

When I screamed the word PRESSURE, they doubled over.

The same position I was in for the exam.

Ironic.

The doctor did a couple of quick tests for cancer.

A little too quick for a “Cancer Test”, but maybe that’s just me.

The positive is that they were both negative.

Then came the next exam on the menu.

The EKG.

The doctor said she wanted to check my heart because of my father’s history.

He passed away from a massive heart attack at age 75.

“No problem”, I said.

Her assistant came in and got things set up.

“Please remove anything with metal.”

I joked that it was a good thing I left my belly button ring at home.

She smirked.

Out of courtesy.

Then she asked me to do something that hurt me more than that prostate exam.

“Please turn off your phone.”

WHAT!

“And put it on the other side of the room.”

WHAT!

“Are you kidding?”, I thought to myself.

Don’t you know the NBA Trade Deadline is coming up?

What if I miss something in the next six minutes?

But as painful as it was, I did it.

As she requested.

And as soon as I moved the phone, she started putting these sticky pieces of something all over me.

Ten of them.

She counted.

All over my body.

From my chest to my calf to my arm.

They were used to register my heart rate.

The test took all of a minute.

Then came the real pain.

The removal of those sticky things.

Not quite the Steve Carell scene from 40-Year Old Virgin.

But close.

Now I’m not the hairiest guy of all-time.

But I can guarantee you I had less body hair after the EKG than I had before.

A small price to pay for a good result.

The doctor said was my heart beat was good.

A little slow.

But she said I must’ve been really relaxed during the test.

Hmmm.

Maybe I should shut off my phone more often.

All-in-all, it was a good day in the doctor’s office.

Everything checked out just fine.

I hope my car has the same result.