In Which We Are Patient

 Look I know I talk a lot about my health concerns here, but I'm an old man and I don't have a lot of other exciting topics to explore.  Especially lately, I have been going through an absolute spree of doctor appointments.  I am single-handedly keeping the American medical community profitable.  

This festival of medicine started off with my consultation for my upcoming cataract surgeries.  And keeping with my new tradition of being handed off from doctor to doctor like a goddamn secret Santa present, they sent me to my regular doctor for a clearance that promised that I wasn't going to die in the middle of getting my cataracts scraped off. 

Speaking of being handed off, turns out my regular doctor's practice has been bought by yet another medical group.  This happens every couple of years, some corporation buys the old corporation and I get an email announcing I have to register for a new "patient portal".  I want to point out every time I have filled in all the information the portal demands, I still have to complete the same questions on a form the next time I go in.   Consequently, the last couple of times this has come up I just ignore the whole ridiculous mess knowing that by the time they catch on that I have refused, some other entity will buy them and the point will be moot. 

Once I luddited my way past their information gatekeeping, the physician assistant announced they  needed an EKG.  I'm always up for a good time, so I didn't protest.  Of course, nothing is simple, so the EKG showed that I have a slightly enlarged heart which, naturally, called for me to be referred to yet another specialist, a cardiologist.  I would like to point out this EKG had nothing to do with my eyeballs which were supposedly the reason I was there in the first place.  The PA airily assured me I was cleared for the surgery, but said I needed to get right on that cardiology thrill ride. So that's coming up in September.  Also I need a tetanus shot, because of course. 

That was yesterday, today's doctor appointment was my hematologist to talk about that silly old too much red blood cell stuff.  He looked at a bunch of numbers and asked me if getting a pint of blood drawn every month was helping. Why was he asking me?  Shouldn't he know that?  I said I couldn't tell any difference so he pretty much answered "Oh well. That's that. Nothing else else I can do" and shuffled me out the door.  What?  

I think so much of this medical frenzy is simply that the tests they run on me are actually too efficient.  The EKG senses a tiny blip and suddenly I'm scheduling a stress test with a heart doctor.  My blood work shows that I am barely over some threshold for my red blood cells and I am trotted off to the hematologist.  And every conference includes the phrase "it's probably no big deal, but . . . "  I think we should all be focusing more on the "no big deal" part of the equation.  

And so now here I am, blind, burdened with too many blood cells, and a big beautiful heart.  All the tests and treatments and procedures all come back to one insight: I'm old.  Well, I could have told you that.  In conclusion, as all these doctors inevitably wind up telling me, "let's keep an eye on that."

Here's what I really want to keep an eye on, 

Butt

Peek a boo

Such shapeliness must not be contained.

Why so glum, chum?

Buttchops of the World.

You know he giggles when he pulls his pants down.

This guy works under the nom de smut of Con Wh0re.  Whatever you say sweetie.