Friday, November 6, 2009

Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

Sooo....holey moleys are now gone. Excised and cauterized by an amazingly sweet dermatologist who is also amazingly modest. Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

Here's the deal. When I go in for a visit... His nurses (each and every one dressed in white from head to toe) all speak in very hush hush tones and soft manners. They all seem startled by my sideways humor and blush easily. Which. Cracks. Me. Up. And which makes me try to be even more startling...

They always take me to a chilly exam room which seems like a hold over from a Norman Rockwell painting, ask me to remove the pieces of clothing which cover the suspicious spots and then have me lie down on the exam table. (This next bit absolutely tickles me to death.) The nurse very sweetly covers my semi-nakedness in one of those god-awful paper sheets and then tears tiny little holes so the doctor can see them without actually seeing me!! How funny is that?! They even tape the edges of the little holes to me so the sheet won't accidentally move and give him a glimpse of something he's not supposed to see! Hahahahaaa!!

Then I lie there all by myself, in the cold, covered in paper and wait. OK, I generally doze while I'm waiting which makes the waiting seem not quite so bad but nonetheless... A timid little knock on the door and in slips a skinny man with those jewelers' goggles on who says hello in a soft small voice and says he's just going to have a look. Which he does - so carefully - he's almost reverent. Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

Anyhooo...yesterday. I'm laying there in all my holey paper glory. The man with the plan comes in, peers through his goggles, stings me with anesthetic (asking each time if I'm alright), acts a bit disturbed by the fact that I'd really like to watch him while he works (and refusing to let me), scrapes out the moles, apologizes when I comment on how bad cauterizing something (i.e. ME) smells and then puts a band-aid on it. While he's telling me how to care for these tiny new boo-boos, it dawns on me that his instructions are exactly the same as how my tattoo artist wants me to take care of my tattoos. SO...of course I HAVE TO MENTION THAT. And when I do...he blushes and sort of stammers "Well, I, I, I wouldn't know...I've never had a tattoo." And then exits the room!! Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

By this point, I'm really REALLY wanting to guffaw. I check on the bill and say my good-by to the lady in white at the check out desk and leave the building. And once I'm in my car - I just cackled. Yes, like a crazy person but it's just too funny!!

Modest doctors are funny. Especially this one. He's a SKIN DOCTOR!!! SKIN is ALL OVER most people. I really don't know any people who aren't covered by SKIN!! And skin covers more than just the parts which are acceptable during prime time television! It's very sweet and cute and innocent I guess...but where's the sense in being a SKIN DOCTOR who's embarassed by...SKIN?! It just CRACKS. ME. UP.

Footnote: (BTW, in case you haven't noticed. Modesty isn't something I'm accused of very often. AND the man with the plan said from what he could see those suspicious spots looked less suspicious once he'd gotten into them. Now we'll just wait on the chemistry to confirm it.)

1 comment:

Marie said...

Sounds like something you'd see on a SNL skit. Maybe you should submit it for consideration.

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