Tuesday, July 18, 2006
The Bad Touch
Yesterday I had a checkup with my doctor. Everything was going as usual -- hourlong wait, awkward small talk, two finger typing -- when my doctor asked if a medical student could observe our visit. This, of course, was no big deal. A tiny, quiet girl who sort of reminded me of TV's Felicity came in and listened to us chat about why my knees sometimes feel like they're going to fall off and how I really probably shouldn't eat that precooked bacon they sell at Jewel. She appeared to be taking notes on a clipboard, which made me worry a little bit about the possibility of her writing an unauthorized biography of me, but since no one was prodding me with any needles or asking me to pee into anything, I felt pretty content.
Then my doctor asked me to take my clothes off so he could feel my balls.
Now, I understand that testicular cancer is a big deal and I definitely believe in getting examined. What I don't necessarily believe in, however, is having an audience. But I tried to be professional about it, and simply stared straight ahead as physician and sidekick took the guided tour of my unmentionables. I even started to feel a little bit flattered when words like "normal" and "healthy" started coming out of his mouth. As you can imagine, I don't hear those words often.
Then my doctor asked if his student could feel my balls as well.
And what could I say? Humiliated though I was, I allowed the group grope to ensue. The student reached out her hand as though she was about to dip it in acid and, just in case I didn't quite understand how mortified she was, made what I recognized from grade school as the "Mr. Yuck" face.
I guess the good news is I got a clean bill of health.
Yesterday I had a checkup with my doctor. Everything was going as usual -- hourlong wait, awkward small talk, two finger typing -- when my doctor asked if a medical student could observe our visit. This, of course, was no big deal. A tiny, quiet girl who sort of reminded me of TV's Felicity came in and listened to us chat about why my knees sometimes feel like they're going to fall off and how I really probably shouldn't eat that precooked bacon they sell at Jewel. She appeared to be taking notes on a clipboard, which made me worry a little bit about the possibility of her writing an unauthorized biography of me, but since no one was prodding me with any needles or asking me to pee into anything, I felt pretty content.
Then my doctor asked me to take my clothes off so he could feel my balls.
Now, I understand that testicular cancer is a big deal and I definitely believe in getting examined. What I don't necessarily believe in, however, is having an audience. But I tried to be professional about it, and simply stared straight ahead as physician and sidekick took the guided tour of my unmentionables. I even started to feel a little bit flattered when words like "normal" and "healthy" started coming out of his mouth. As you can imagine, I don't hear those words often.
Then my doctor asked if his student could feel my balls as well.
And what could I say? Humiliated though I was, I allowed the group grope to ensue. The student reached out her hand as though she was about to dip it in acid and, just in case I didn't quite understand how mortified she was, made what I recognized from grade school as the "Mr. Yuck" face.
I guess the good news is I got a clean bill of health.
