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by Phil G
Rated: E · Essay · Satire · #2094409
A satirical look at todays medical care.
Today I went in for my yearly physical examination. Because of the limitations of my current insurance, I no longer get to visit the doctor of my choice who I have become quite comfortable with over the years. Now I visit a nurse practitioner instead. Call me old-fashioned, but I come from a generation where the medical profession was like something out of a Norman Rockwell Painting. I even remember when Doctors carried black leather bags and made house calls. Man, I am old as Dirt!

         Doctors were doctors, nurses were nurses, and the only thing that hasn't changed is the magazines are still from two years ago, and the television in the waiting room is always set on the most annoying channel available with the volume turned off. With what we pay in medical fees, would it be too much to ask for a few premium cable channels? And leave the remote out. We're adults for the most part. We won't fight over it. And if by some chance an argument does break out, were in the perfect place to get patched up.

         After a brief wait, which allows me to finish my shopping list, work a puzzle or two and maybe finish a couple of chapters of my book, I finally make my way into the examination room. A lady comes in and does some pulmonary poking and prodding. Blood pressure, temperature the basics. Finally, the Nurse Practitioner arrives. She is a pleasant enough young lady, but I get the uncomfortable feeling that this is the same person that rung up my groceries at Walmart a few weeks ago.

         How are you feeling she asks? I explained that other than Rheumatoid Arthritis, Lower back pain, Constipation, Type 2 Diabetes, Anxiety Disorder, Incontinence, and Dementia, I feel pretty good. Those are all symptoms of advanced age she announces with an air of authority. I'm thinking, and I had to pay a copay, for that!

         {/pre}Next, I get hooked up to a machine with wires attached all over my chest. I'm having flashbacks to the old Frankenstein movies. I can almost hear Mel Brooks yelling "It's Alive."

         Then comes my second least favorite part of the whole ordeal. The drawing of blood. I make a fist and tighten every muscle and orifice in my body. Small pinch she says. I'm thinking, what's your Idea of small? I used to have the habit of asking the person who is about to put a spear through my arm how long they have been doing this, Now I just don't care to know. I feel a sharp pain, and If I'm lucky there is not too much digging around.

         Then comes my absolute least favorite part, the Prostate examination. Call me old fashion, call me a prude, but there is just something I find a bit unsettling about having anyone, especially someone my granddaughter's age touching me in the spot that I try not to give much thought under most circumstances. I have to imagine it gives her nightmares as well.

         So the ordeal is over for another year. When leaving, I don't know any more than when I came in. The test results will be back in a couple of weeks and until then I try to pretend that everything is fine.

         Now since I am out and about, I decide to reward myself for being such a good patient by making a run through that new Chinese Buffet. Moo Shoo Pork here I come and bring me some extra monosodium glutamate. While you're at it make everything extra salty. Until next time, Good health to you all.

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