So i had the big medical exam today. the one that we all agree that’s vital for Black Men should get, but when it’s your turn. sheesh. I put it off, rescheduled, and forgot it was this week. I decided to get it over with. My regular Dr. left the practice at the end of the year after we decided that would be the next thing to do. He’s a pretty cool white guy and the other 2 doctors are black women in the practice. I wasn’t sure which of them to pick initially, and I don’t have a strong reason for picking him but he was cool. But now he’s gone and I’ll be meeting someone new for the first time, under totally less than ideal circumstances. (insert that scene from Ace Ventura, Pet Detective)
i didn’t sleep much last night. i wondered if they could knock me out and let me miss the experience. the person who was assisting him on my last visit was a sista, in residency i think. I figured it was going to be her. but I wasn’t crazy about that. I don’t know why. but there’s not someone I can say I’d rather do it. because I’d rather not do it at all. I tried to rationalize to myself all night as I tossed and turned.
I’ll skip past the details and say that my new doctor is a white woman. probably in her early 40s (maybe late 30s). This demographic (or the person, probably) I ended up being cool with, because the process was clinical and matter of fact.
“and this is where it’s going to be less than dignified,” she said.
Drop trou? sure. *cough* Moooooon River! (the infamous Fletch reference)
and just like that, it was over.
so, the moral of the story is, your life is more important than your so called dignity. Get yourselves checked.