THE DOCTOR WILL BE RIGHT WITH YOU

       I had been feeling pretty bad lately. There was constipation, diarrhea, premature evacuation -in vehicles belonging and not belonging to me- stomach cramping, vomiting, ect. It had been going on for a couple of months. I decided to do some sit-ups. Apparently, I surmised that if I got rock-hard abs and transformed my perennially sedentary carcass into a fitness machine in the next five minutes the illness would be miraculously excised from my body.
          It wasn't. In fact, it made it worse.

         My mom decided it was time for me to see a doctor. After reluctantly concluding that my flash fitness regimen wasn't going to remedy the situation, I agreed.

         The doctor was a small man with dark hair parted on the wrong side and had a thin sliver of a mustache lining his lip.  Your typical Sherlock Holmes suspect.  I told him my symptoms while my mother was present - and then she left the room.   

         “Please remove all of your clothes and put on this robe with the opening in the back,” said the doctor's nurse brusquely.

         “All of my clothes? Even my underwear?”

         “Yes, even your underwear.”

         She and the doctor left the room.

         I was seventeen. I'd been to the doctor for all of my shots, pink eye, sundry rashes, and a yellowing toe fungus. I never had to take off my underwear for any of that stuff. Why did he need me to take off my underwear? I thought it suspicious - so I left them on. There was knock at the operatory door.

         “Are you all set?” said the nurse.

         “Yes.”  I guess. Set for what?

         The nurse entered the room and instructed me to turn around and lean over the the exam table. I did as she asked. I was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that my suspicions about underwear removal were well founded.

         “We're ready doctor.” said the nurse.

         I heard the door open and the door close. The nurse took my hand in her hand. I felt a slight breeze along my backside as my robe had been lifted and then an exaggerated pause.

         “Miss, I need you to remove your underwear.”

         “Why? For what?!,” I said turning to face him, not understanding that when you have stomach problems your butt is obviously the first place any medical professional would want to look.

         “You've said that you are having bleeding with your bowel movements. I just need to take a look to make sure it is nothing serious.”

         This was still not sitting right with me, but he did say that he was just going to look. That eased my mind a bit. He turned away and I removed my underwear. I leaned over the exam table again and the nurse regained my hand.

         “So, what are you going to school for?” said the nurse in an attempt to calm me down.

         My palms were sweating.   I was shaking and my mind was racing with all the various ways at my disposal to kill my mother once I got out of here.

         “I want to be a dentist,” I said through gritted teeth.
         “Ewww, how could you look in mouths all day?”  I raised my head and looked the inane woman dead in the eye. Just at that moment I felt a warm sensation where I'd never felt a warm sensation. My body went stiff. I was in shock.


         “I'm never doing that again! I can't believe you took me there! I hate you. Do you know what he did to me?” I said tearfully on the car ride home.

         “The doctor said we need to make an appointment with a gastroenterologist for a colonoscopy.” my mother said.

         “What's a colonoscopy?”