Bright and early Thursday morning I sped off to see a new doctor.  His office is almost an hour away but well worth the drive.  It’s a lovely drive down the Appalachian mountains to the plains of the south.  There’s everything from winding hills to old water sheds and decrepit cotton mills.  The ginormous interstate is much faster but I enjoy the scenery.

I got to the office early, so I nipped in a local eatery and had a cup of coffee and an omelette.  When I returned, they were ready for me to fill out two Poplar trees worth of paperwork.  I finished the stack of nondescript forms and waited along with several other people.  I picked up a year old magazine and pretended to read an article about Obama.

What is with that anyway?  Most folks, unless they are just desperate for attention, will pretend to be busy doing something while waiting for a doctor.  Are we afraid to talk to one another? 

One fellow wasn’t shy or spry.  He went into detail about what was wrong with him, and what type of medicine he was on.  He proceeded to tell me what was wrong with his wife, who was sitting next to him, grunting throughout the lengthy exchange.  I was entertained by this unidirectional discourse, so I asked where he and his wife were from.  His wife sighed and shifted in her seat as he rambled on.  I smiled.

After a long scowl faded from the wife’s face, I was ushered to the back.  I was met in the hallway by a damsel adorning a white lab coat.  At this point, I figured I had died of boredom and levitated to a heavenly angel with bright hazel eyes and flowing chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail. 

With a clipboard and a smile, she lead me back to a mocha coloured room with ochre painted trim.  We talked of my medical history for twenty minutes.  We discussed subjects that I would normally never discuss with a woman, much less a single woman.

She told me that I had to have an EKG for the doc, so I stripped down to my boxers and laid back in the chair.  As it turns out, I really didn’t need to strip (didn’t need that image in your head, did ya?) but she didn’t mind.  She, I’ll call her Becca, started putting frigid and sticky sensors on me chest, as I asked her where she went to school. 

The sensation was a bit ticklish, so I busted into laughter.  She tried to retain her composure yet fell under the spell of hilarity.  Every time Becca hooked a wire to a sensor, I busted into laughter followed by her.  I was finally able to stay calm long enough for her to take a reading. 

A smile overtook her face, as she ripped the sensors and half the hair off of my chest.  She gathered her things, and said, “The doctor will be with you in a few moments”.

“When can we do this again?”  I pleaded whilst redressing.

“You are one of a kind, Jefferson”, she uttered whilst chortling.

“Well, I know that, but when can you rip some more sensors off my chest?”

“We’ll see”, she laughingly muttered whilst leaving the room.

While awaiting the doctor, I tapped out a rhythmic beat on a brown envelope I brought with me.

He arrived and we talked about the same medical history that I had discussed with Becca.  I brought up football teams in his homeland.  He was very impressed that I knew such things.  He continued asking questions while I fiddled with the envelope.

“What do you have there?”  He pleaded while staring at the envelope.

“It’s my massive medical history crunched down to about fifty pages.”

My life put into numbers and nondescript medical terminology.  It’s odd, really, how scientist can turn one’s entire life into a bunch of numbers.  Of course, we are just binary beings these days, right?

“Can I have a look at it?”

“Yes sir, I brought it so you could make a copy for your own records.  I carry it, when I travel as well.”

“When you go out of state?”

“Yeah, but when I go out of the country as well”, I answered whilst grinning.

He laid down his pen and asked me where I’d been.  He lit up and we talked for a while about our travels.  We talked about all sorts of subjects before finally getting back to business.  After finishing up, I headed back down the hallway to find Becca talking to two nurses.  I offered to let her rip some more hair off my chest.  They laughed and I left on cloud nine. 

I knew there was something funny about those mushrooms in my omelette that morning.  Reckon they were laced with something or just bad?