Satire

Dr. Feelgood

When your doctor is on indefinite medical leave, it might be time to find a new one. Don’t get me wrong, I love my doctor. He’s a great guy. And he’s the team physician for a local college football team that begins with “L” and ends in “U.”

© 2007 Robert Seale Robert Seale Photography www.robertseale.com 832-654-9572

He’s nursed me back to health from all sorts of work-related injuries. Like that time I blew out my knee chasing Lil’ Boosie’s momma around the courthouse. And he’s probed me in places even my wife won’t touch.

Just a few years ago, the doctor was simply the dude in the ER who stitched me up after a dare gone bad. Now, it seems I need one weekly. Men, in general, have an aversion to doctors. I think it all starts when we are kids.

On the little league field we rub dirt on it. We walk it off. Blood makes the grass grow. We don’t need doctors. We just need a little time to shake everything back into place.

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In high school, the doctor asks you to turn your head and cough. In college he gives you a shot of penicillin and sends you on your merry way.

In short, the good doctor is rarely good.

Even into adulthood, the doctor holds only bad news in his gloved hand. High blood pressure, cancer, migraines, depression, diabetes. He’s almost as scary as Jason Voorhees.

Then of course, there’s the reason his hand is gloved.

Which brings me to the reason I needed a doctor this week.

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It’s time for the yearly drop-em-and-bend procedure. Without a current doc, I did what any man would do — took the first name on the list at my local hospital.

So, I called Dr. Blaise. Of course, he’s not taking new patients, but a new physician in his practice is. Well, sign me up.

The kind voice on the other end of the phone told me I would be seeing Dr. Candi.  “With an ‘I.'”

There were a number of thoughts that whizzed through my cortex. But they were not what you might think.

No, it didn’t bother me that Dr. Candi With An I was a woman. It’s 2017, and I’m old. It wasn’t that she was “new.” In all those years in med school, she had to learn something.

The one thought that stuck in my head when I was told that I would be seeing Dr. Candi With An I was, “Great, I got the one stripper who really was paying her way thorough med school.”

il_570xN.1253432507_a0yeI freely admit that is chauvinistic and completely inappropriate. I also admit that before my appointment I showered with that special “smell good” soap my wife bought me.

Dr. Candi With An I was completely professional, and completely lovely. She asked about my medical history, my family, my health. We talked about diet, exercise, work, Crossfit. Turns out she’s a fan, though not a cult member.

It almost felt like a first date.

Then came the moment of truth, and I learned she had one important qualification my old doc didn’t. Small hands.

When it was all said and done, Dr. Candi With An I gave me her number and told me to call anytime.

I think I might have a shot.

 

Categories: Life Or Something Like It, Satire, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Crossfitter’s Psalm

I told you I joined a cult. And every cult needs a good Psalm. Something to offer up to the gods in praise and thanksgiving. Something to encourage it’s minions to press on through tough times. Something to reflect upon when times are good.

With that in mind, I give you The Crossfitter’s Psalm.

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The MURPH is my shepherd; I shall not quit.

He makes me lie down and do burpees: he leads me in muscle ups.

He rows for my soul: he leads me in paths of handstand walks for his name sake.

Yea as I walk through the valley of the Rogue Plates I shall fear no WOD for MURPH is with me; thy chalk and thy timer challenge me.

Thou prepare a Paleo table before me in the presence of all fad diets; and I will dwell in the box of the MURPH all the days of my life.

Categories: exercise, Fun, Satire, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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