Thursday, June 28, 2007

My very own "Sicko" story

Dear Diary,

I made the mistake of booking my doctor's appointment during my lunch hour today. My lunch started at 12:00pm and I booked the appointment for 12:45pm so I could at least have 45 minutes to enjoy my lunch and saunter through the mall (my doctor's office is in this fantastic mall). But that only gave me five minutes for the doctor's check-up and then ten minutes to take the bus back to the office where we're having this huge meeting today with our company's head office. I can really cram a lot into a day.

Lunch consisted of a delicious but health-conscious salad at Top Taco which was made with a thin slice of tomato, a boatload of nachos and a mountain ton of American cheese. I may have even tasted a little lard in there. Then I shopped until 12:51pm (they always make you wait in the waiting room anyway). By the time I got to the doctor's office, it was 12:56pm. There was already a huge line-up to the front desk. I didn't have a second to waste; I had a big meeting to go to in four minutes, and if I was late, it wouldn't look good for Sheila, my boss, and she'd probably get fired because head office would not be impressed with her management style and how employees can just run in and out of important meetings whenever they want. That's when I panicked.

I ran up to the front of the line.

ME: Excuse me. My name is Eric and my appointment was over ten minutes ago. I shouldn't have to wait in line with everybody else.

MALE RECEPTIONIST: Your name was already called out. You'll have to wait until the doctor is finished with the appointment he has now.

ME: That's ridiculous. It's unacceptable!

RECEPTIONIST: You're late.

ME: It's lunch time. I have to eat. You're in the medical profession. Don't you know people have to eat?

RECEPTIONIST: Sir, please - have a seat. The doctor will see you shortly.

ME: I don't have "shortly"! I got nothing. I have to be back in the office for an important meeting in like two minutes or I'm going to be late and my boss is going to get fired.

RECEPTIONIST: Sir, keep your voice down. We should reschedule your appointment.

ME: I can't reschedule. I have a bump on my inner thigh that I'm worried about. The doctor has to see me. Now. I could be dead in a few minutes. I'm a walking time bomb!


ME: That's easy for you to say. You're not walking around with this huge atrocity between your legs. I need to get this thing drained!

SOME OTHER RUDE WOMAN: Someone should call security.

ME: You know what? I'll make it easy on the doc. He can just quickly check the bump. Nothing else.

I started to ease myself out of my clothes.

ME: What room is he in?

RECEPTIONIST: Sir, please.

I was now down to my tighty-whities, except they were a dull yellow, and not so tight.

RUDE WOMAN: Oh my God.

ME: I don't have time to be modest. Who knows how much time I've got left.

RECEPTIONIST: Where's your bump?

ME: Right here. It hurts.

The receptionist touched it. And I screamed bloody murder.


RECEPTIONIST: That's an in-grown hair.

ME (breathing heavily): What's the mortality rate?

RECEPTIONIST: It's an in-grown hair. You'll be fine. Have your wife pick it out with tweezers.

The rude woman behind me was now checking out my package.

RUDE WOMAN: That's not the only thing she'll have to pick out with tweezers.

Everybody exploded into laughter then, including the receptionist, and my doctor who had just walked into the room.

DOCTOR: You got that right. I usually grab my own tweezers before I ask him to cough.

Now the entire place was rocking with laughter. Blushing, I grabbed my clothes and scrambled out, like an under-appreciated one-night stand.

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