Tickets to the Gun Show

This week has started off nice and easy in contrast to last week. I was appointment free on Monday and this morning I had a very short appointment with my family physician.

When I called to set this appointment up, the receptionist, with less than acceptable customer service skills, asked why I needed the appointment. Being the anatomy freak that I am, I figured the more specific the better and told her I had lumps in my "inguinal" region. However, I learned I was much too quick to reveal my knowledge of the human body when the receptionist replied, "I don't know where that is." Bummer, I'm going to have to use layman's terms. "It is by your pelvis," I kindly educated her. With growing annoyance in her voice she said, "I am not medical. I don't know what that is!" Are you kidding me? You work in a doctors' office and don't know where your pelvis is? I gave up and told her quite abrasively that it is your CROTCH! "Oh, your groin area," she said as if it all suddenly made sense and set my appointment.

Going into the appointment I was not necessarily excited about the prospect of yet another doctor appointment, but I wasn't wishing I was somewhere else either. You see, I set this appointment myself, and if there is one thing I like, it is to be in control. I was also kind of looking forward to seeing her (my physician) again because I hadn't seen her since the beginning of May when we met the first time and she got this whole ball rollin'. I thought I should say thanks for caring enough to make me get tests done to figure all of this out. Also, she is really nice, and I was willing to pay a $25 co-pay just to see her again.

When I arrived at the clinic, I felt such relief to not be in the Cancer Center for once. The family practice clinic seemed much more inviting and much less heart breaking. After a short wait, a male nurse named Raul called me back to the exam room to get my vitals. As I took a seat in the chair, he gave me a once over and declared, "Oh, that is why you have that body." Excuse me? Looking at my work uniform and name tag he said, "You are a trainer. I was thinking to myself, 'She is very fit.'" I awkwardly laughed and tried to put my ring hand where he could see it as he continued to comment. "Has anyone ever asked you if you have a license for those guns?" Half-flattered and half-about to gag, I said, "No, they haven't actually." On his way out the door he said, "Well, they have now."

Thank you, Raul for noticing my biceps. It's about time someone did.