My Doctor Thinks He’s a Comedian!

My doctor thinks he’s funny. Always playing it for laughs.

I phoned him last week because I thought I had Monkey Pox symptoms. “No problem,” he said. “Swing by tomorrow and I’ll take a look.”

I could hear him laughing loudly as the call ended. He has a very distinctive cackle.

Health Check

One time I had to call him to get my annual health check results. “I’m delighted with your scores, “he told me. “Your cardiovascular indicators make me very happy indeed!”

“Great!” I said, mightily relieved. “It’s good to know I’m healthy!”

“Oh, you’re not healthy at all,” he replied. “But it’s people like you who keep me in a job, so don’t stop what you’re doing!”

That shook me up! “How bad is it?” I said, in a state of shock.

“Well, if you’re planning a holiday next year, I wouldn’t buy your flights just yet. And take the free cancellation option on any hotel you book.”

He could tell I was worried. “Look,” he said “It’s not all bad. You’re scheduled for a prostate examination early next year, but we can cancel that for now. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

Phone

If you’re wondering why I was phoning him for those results it’s because our healthcare system is a mess. It’s impossible to get a face-to-face appointment anytime soon around here.

I mentioned this the last time I saw him. “You’re not the only person who’s complaining,” he said. “I saw one guy yesterday who told me he’d been waiting three months for an appointment! Then he showed me the rash on his nuts and asked me what he should do.”

“Was it serious?” I asked.

“I’ve no idea. I didn’t look. I told him to pull his trousers up and to stop causing a scene in the supermarket.”

He laughed so hard at that, he spilled coffee on his keyboard.

Useless

I don’t know why I even bother with a face-to-face appointment. When you do get to see him, he’s completely useless. One time I had a frozen shoulder. I sat in front of him and tried to show him the extent of the problem. “It hurts when I do that, Doc,” I said, raising my right arm slightly.

“So don’t do that,” he replied. “Anything else I can help you with?”

And slow! He sent my hearing aid off for repair five weeks ago. I haven’t heard a thing since.

He’s so useless I’ve taken to researching my symptoms on the internet to save going to see him. It doesn’t always help, though. I googled erectile dysfunction the other day, but nothing came up.

Small Talk

But it’s his constant attempts to be funny that really irritate me.

“How did you get those cuts and bruises on your arm?” he asked me one day during an examination.

“I hit the road when I was out cycling,” I replied. “There’s a dog in our street that chases everyone it sees on a bike.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “Dogs can’t ride bikes!” Then he cackled loudly.

As he was writing the script, I made some small talk to cover the silence.

“I saw a fox on the way to work this morning, Doc.”

“How do you know it was going to work?” he replied without looking up.

As he walked me to the door, he asked me about my plans for Christmas.

“I don’t know what I’m going to get my wife this year,” I said. “She’s very hard to buy for.”

“Get her a fridge,” he replied. “Watch her face light up when she opens the door!” I could still hear him laughing when I reached reception.

Different Practice

The doctor’s influence is rubbing off on the rest of the staff, too.

I asked Stella the receptionist why some of the staff were dressed in black.

“We’re all going to a funeral later today. Our janitor died suddenly last week.”

“Who, Ray?” I asked.

She gave me a frosty look. “I really don’t think cheering is an appropriate response.” Then she cackled loudly, just like the doctor.

I was sad to hear about Ray, but he could be a wiseass too. Once, as I was on my way in, he asked me to help him carry an Amazon delivery. “That’s heavy,” I said as we struggled to get it up the stairs. “What is it?”

“It’s just what the doctor ordered,” he replied, smirking.

Another time he watched me hobbling into reception on crutches after I’d injured my ankle. He approached me and got right in my face.

“Are you the fella who stole my camouflage jacket last week?” he hissed.

“No!” I said indignantly. “That’s ridiculous!”

“If it was you, just remember — you can hide, but you can’t run. Then he slapped me on the shoulder and burst out laughing.

I think I need to register with a different practice.