Note to self and all other women – next time you go to the ER make sure to shave your “winter legs” so when Dr. Mcdreamy/ doesn’t exist except for in movies doctor comes in to examine your body for rashes you don’t turn 50 shades of red!
I drove myself into the ER at 1:30 am suspecting a bad reaction to a new medication I was trying. I had a myriad of what I will describe as “unlistable symptoms” in an attempt to save any of my remaining dignity.
As I sat in the tiny closet of a hospital room I felt confident that this would be an easy visit. I was still fully clothed which is always a good sign. The nurse had already been in to see me and I had only been there for 5 minutes. I figured they would give me a quick check up and determine I was fine and I could relax. And that is when “it” happened. “It” being the Doctor who doesn’t exist…well…was existing. Not only existing but entering my room. He was around 6’2, confidently walking around in a perfectly toned 20 something body, smooth and healthy skin, perfectly sculpted face, strong jaw bone, intense eyes, and thick black hair. He asked me to explain why I was there. After some incoherent mumbling on my part he said he would need to have me change into the dreaded hospital gown. Ugh.
I grudgingly shed the comfort of my baggy clothes and entered the airy, paper napkin of a gown. Then the exquisiteness (or Doctor so and so) re-entered the room. As I sat there mostly naked and ultimately aware of every stretch-mark, wrinkle, flab of fat, unruly hair displaying itself in all different directions, and my newly acquired acne (thank you medication), he seemed smug in his perfection. He proceeded to explain that he must check my body for any signs of rash and had me stand next to the bed. He walked behind me and began scrutinizing my skin. As I had stood up, however, my underwear had decided that this was an opportune time to become wedged within my butt. So, there I stood, wearing an ugly paper napkin as an ill fitting dress, open in the back, exposing my “bacne”, wedgie, and my sagging butt that at some point gave up and dropped into my thighs. I like to lovingly refer to it as my “thack” because my thighs just become my back at some point.Instantaneously, I want to crawl under the bed, counter or any other piece of large furniture that would hide my embarrassment. He then had me sit on the bed to examine my overstretched, stretch-mark ridden, flabby mass that used to be my stomach and my legs. My “winter legs”. Those things I use to walk on but like to neglect during the winter months. My legs had no shaving irritation but also had not even been given any lotion for days. All it took to make a little “skin snow” was a quick scratching and TA-DA!
Lost in these thoughts and trying to block out the judgement I suspected was going on in this young doctor’s mind I blurted out an apology for my legs’ condition. However, when I apologized for the hairy-ness, he laughed at me! It was all I could do to not start trying to excuse and explain why I am so hairy, baggy, floppy and gross… “Well u see Dr, I have had 4 kids and blah blah blah.” Instead I opted for shamed silence. This perfect specimen of a body was examining imperfection at its finest. There was no explanation. This was the screenplay of the comedy of my life.
For this reason, I have decided there needs to be a more intense process of eliminating those who can qualify to be a doctor. Somewhere in their medical school entry forms there needs to be a question regarding where they place on the scale of perfection. If they score too high on physical perfection they must be determined ineligible. It is not fair that someone is the display of genetic perfection physically AND mentally!
I was not having a reaction. It was just a virus so all of my humiliation was in vain. However, all was not lost! Fun fact of the ER visit is that I have a “geographical tongue”. It is unlike normal tongues because at various points in time you will be able to see what looks like oceans and continents outlined on the surface of my tongue. Wow. I am special. I bet Dr. Mcdreamy doesn’t have a geographical tongue.
It's not crazy. It's Passionate! 