This morning was my annual grope and tickle from Dr. R
It’s always a little uncomfortable having a banal conversation with someone who has several lubed fingers deep inside of you. I keep trying to gather up the courage to cover my bits in glitter & stickers before a pap just to see his face when I plop my feet in the stir ups to achieve that maximum viewing pleasure position. He was very proud of me for having quit smoking. I basked in the effervescentness of his praise and hardly felt guilty about lying at all. Really people, if you can’t lie to your doctor, who can you lie to? Besides, if he gets to dig around down there, I felt justified in earning stealing a little praise.
With the exception of the ever creepy raynauds which you can witness here, my normal hip issues and the non-smoking which is really more like chain smoking- I am as healthy as a horse. Or a well built pony at least. I take a perverse pleasure in answering his questions as though I am some zen like creature. Any medications? No. Any bowel or bladder issues? No. Any aches or pains? No. Any rectal problems? No. (Though I did find it interesting that the rectal problems get a whole question all to themselves. Other ailments have to double or triple up. Not the rectum. It stands alone.) There was more praise for the quitting smoking followed by “How much do you drink?” Thankfully I don’t believe in god because if I did, he surely would have struck me down as soon as “Oh, maybe one or two a week” came out of my lying piehole.
I waited until I was down the block and safely out of visuial range before I lit up.
I know. I know.
