My GP is a lovely man and it is an open secret in my family that I have a serious crush on him. He has the hands of an artist and the face of a poet. Perhaps he’s both of these and moonlights as a doctor. I only go to him for the basic ailments like sore ears (which I make sure are thoroughly clean) and the odd sore foot (which I make sure is perfectly manicured.) Nothing that would require of me to lift my shirt or pull down my pants.
Today I needed to visit a different doctor. One that my dear Dr. P has referred me to for an ultrasound. No chance of a baby – thank heavens for that – but there does seem to be something brewing and let’s just get it checked, you see.
I am taken to a cubical to get undressed and thankfully am spared possible embarrassment as it is made quite clear to me how much undressing I need to do. “Strip to your pants and then put on the gown.” No room for guessing. There seems to be slightly more confusion going on in the cubicle next to me. “Keep your pants on. Take your bra off.” “Pants on?”
I put on the gown that says ‘hospital use only’ all over it in primary colours. Really? Hospital use only? What else could you possibly use it for? It’s not the kind of clothing item you would steal to wear on a night out. Not even a clothing item you would wear to lounge around the house in!
I’m ushered into the radiology room and lie on the bed waiting for the doctor. He is drop dead gorgeous. I’ve said this before; there should be a law against there being good looking doctors. If I was self-conscious a minute ago, I am even more so now. ‘Hospital use only’ is now hitched up to almost under my chin, exposing my belly that resembles a stood on hot cross bun. Yes, I have been seen in far more compromising positions than this, but those were different doctors, thankfully in a different country and hopefully have since seen enough patients that me and my nether regions have been erased from their medical memories.
Gorgeous Doctor scans my jelly belly with the transducer. “Take a deep breath” (I already did this when I saw him) “and relax”. Impossible. He works gently and speaks gently. “Now push out your stomach muscles...” Four c-sections, a hysterectomy, two hernia repair ops, not to mention the numerous laparoscopies and now you want to talk to me about stomach muscles!
I wonder what the doctor can see. What exactly does he make of this picture that resembles a tempestuous satellite weather image? Which is slightly how my stomach is feeling now. A second doctor is called in just to confirm the weather report, it seems. That’s it. I’m all done.
Now you see, I have this file of ‘Stupid Things to Say and Do’ stored in the back of my brain and every now and then without warning, this file opens and the contents come spilling out. Unfortunately it happens now, when the doctor bids me goodbye. I blurt; “Thanks, that was lovely.” In that instant I am horrified by what has just unexpectedly come out of my mouth! I blush bright red from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. “It’s a pleasure,” he says without batting an eye, but I do notice the nurse lifting her head and raising an eyebrow.
When I get into the car my husband asks; “How was the doctor?”
“Gorgeous." I say.
“You always get the hot ones.” He says.
Of course I reveal nothing about my faux pas and hope that I never have to see that doctor again.