For the most part my doctor is completely normal, and maybe even more professional than others I’ve had.
He’s always on schedule, usually forgoes small talk for actual in-depth conversations about current events, and never once made me physically uncomfortable.
But there are other things about him that bug me a bit.
They are rare occurrences, but I have a lot of health problems, so I’ve been in and out of here enough to say I’ve seen too much.
At my first pap smear with him he shaved an Om symbol into my pubes while I wasn’t paying attention.
It was shocking that someone would do that without asking, but it was just so darned detailed that I didn’t mention it.
Then he asked,
I thought he was hitting on me, so I said yes because it seemed like something that would make for a funny story. But then he just gave me the business card of a yoga studio and said, “Maybe try this place. I found this card in the parking lot.”
Another time, while I was reading in the waiting room, I spotted him hiding in a cabinet about 20 feet away, spying on me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“What are you doing?” he replied.
“Well, it’s kind of a campy romance, but I like that stuff sometimes.”
“Awwww, stop teasing!”
“That’s hilarious! Do you ever imagine that you’re the woman in those fantasies?”
Then, very very slowly, vomit started to pour from his mouth.
We stared in silence for a long time and neither of us blinked and then he dove behind a desk and I heard him crawling to his office.
The appointment that day went so swimmingly that I thought it best to just not mention what had happened.
Another time he rode a nurse like a horse all day.
I told him I liked the cowboy boots he was wearing, and he said, “What, these old things? They belonged to my father. But he ain’t gettin’ ’em back.”
The nurse garbled something through the bit in her teeth.
“What?” the doctor asked. “You didn’t speak to him, I hope.”
“Mmfff… *cough* No, he just looks ticked off.”
My spine tingled and I peed a bit when I turned to the window to see a very old, very tiny man in a cowboy hat peering in at us and frowning.
The doctor looked at us and started posing and flexing, then the old man bit the doctor’s shin and he fell over screaming and rolled down a steep hill into some bushes.
I turned to the nurse, “Doesn’t it ever get to you? Having to work with such a lunatic?”
She stood up, pulled the bit out of her mouth, and said,
“The doctor is very peculiar, no doubt…
… but he’s a master in many fields of healthcare. His work in dialysis is unmatched by anyone in the state, and his patients are always treated with the utmost concern. In the end, he is my boss and my mentor, and as bizarre as he is, I accept him. After meditating on it for years, I now believe that those of us who see the world clearly must judge the hazy-eyed based on the good that they do, however odd their mannerisms may be.”
“That’s a beautiful philosophy,” I said. “Since I was a kid, I’ve always felt so alone in the world — as if I’m the only level-headed person around.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve been wandering down that road since I learned to speak, and it takes a great deal of patience, my child. A patience that will define itself and grow strong as long as you strive for truth… But anyway, I hope all this didn’t shake you up too much.”
“I’m OK, just a little parched is all.”
“No problem. I’ll take care of you, darlin’.”
Then she went outside with a tin bucket and tried to milk the old man, but he just bit her a lot.