Snap, crackle, pop...
What's funny is one of your best friends acting as your doctor. Not only is he my good friend, but he's one of my best friend's husband. Rodney will be done with chiropractic school in December, and in the meantime, he needs to fulfill a certain number of hours with patients so he can graduate. I'm not sure if it's because he thought I would be a responsible patient in terms of making and keeping appointments or because he knew how fucked up my whole body is that he offered to make me his patient. But anyway, I have the chance to meet with him over the next few months for a very reduced rate. You know, win-win.
My first appointment was last Friday. I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork about my medical history. Have I ever had a fever? Surgery? Constipation? Bleeding from funky places? You know, all the regular things you feel confident disclosing to your best friend's husband.
The next step was to sit down at a desk with Rodney, so he could then ask me questions about my interesting health issues. I detailed the pain I often feel between my shoulder blades that I assume is the result of having above-average sized tatas. I also told him about the pain I sometimes feel in my lower back as a result of a 8-year old broken tailbone. Again, all the regular stuff.
Rodney then told me about a fellow intern who was suspended for speaking "inappropriately" to one of his patients. The walls were so thin that the head chiropractor overhead him making racialist comments or something.
Then we went to a different room so Rodney could stretch me out before he adjusted me. He felt some knots between my shoulders blades and asked if those spots were particularly tender. I said yes. He then said, "Yeah, that's what happens when you've got the boobies!" And then we giggled like school girls. I hope, for his sake, that the walls are made of concrete so no one can hear his "inappropriate comments."
I went to see him for a second time two days ago on Monday. He focused on my jacked up coccyx. At one point, he mumbled to me, "Ok...now I'm...gonna...gonna have to pretty much touch your rear end."
Whatever it takes, Rod. Whatever it takes.
My first appointment was last Friday. I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork about my medical history. Have I ever had a fever? Surgery? Constipation? Bleeding from funky places? You know, all the regular things you feel confident disclosing to your best friend's husband.
The next step was to sit down at a desk with Rodney, so he could then ask me questions about my interesting health issues. I detailed the pain I often feel between my shoulder blades that I assume is the result of having above-average sized tatas. I also told him about the pain I sometimes feel in my lower back as a result of a 8-year old broken tailbone. Again, all the regular stuff.
Rodney then told me about a fellow intern who was suspended for speaking "inappropriately" to one of his patients. The walls were so thin that the head chiropractor overhead him making racialist comments or something.
Then we went to a different room so Rodney could stretch me out before he adjusted me. He felt some knots between my shoulders blades and asked if those spots were particularly tender. I said yes. He then said, "Yeah, that's what happens when you've got the boobies!" And then we giggled like school girls. I hope, for his sake, that the walls are made of concrete so no one can hear his "inappropriate comments."
I went to see him for a second time two days ago on Monday. He focused on my jacked up coccyx. At one point, he mumbled to me, "Ok...now I'm...gonna...gonna have to pretty much touch your rear end."
Whatever it takes, Rod. Whatever it takes.
posted by quank at 12:10 AM
1 Comments:
Tatas...
Rear end...
Coccyx...
Rodney...
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