Vila follows up
March 25, 2007 § 18 Comments
Tomorrow, the slew of follow-up appointments begins. First up is a visit to the Infectious Diseases Clinic, where I presume that I will be tested for infectious disease. You see, it is my ophthalmologist’s firm belief that people under the age of sixty never, ever get shingles. Therefore, my ophthalmologist, who shall hereafter be known as Dr. Evil, is convinced that there is something wrong with my immune system.
Of course, Dr. Evil didn’t actually tell me this. Being a lowly patient, I am apparently incapable of processing actual information, so he didn’t waste time with direct communication. Instead, he began his exam with a Guantanamo-style interrogation, which went something like this:
Dr. Evil: Have you ever done drugs?
Um, what the fuck? How about starting with “Hello,” or, “My name is Dr. Evil?” Besides, what do drugs have to do with shingles?
Dr. Evil: I said, have you ever done drugs?
Christ, of course I’ve done drugs, loads of them, but none recently. Okay, Vila, what should you say?
Me: Uh, no, not lately.
Dr. Evil: C’mon, what about pot? You’ve done pot, right?
Oh my god, he thinks people “do” pot. Loser. At least he didn’t call it “reefer.”
Me: Yeah, sure, but not much anymore.
Dr. Evil: Okay, what else?
Me: Um, nothing. Wait, actually, I smoke. And I drink alcohol. Does that count?
Dr. Evil: No. C’mon, are you telling me you don’t do drugs? What else?
What, do I look like a meth-head? Suddenly, I remember my trip to Vancouver. I guess I should tell him…
Me: Well, I did Ecstasy like, six months ago.
Apparently, this was not the confession he was looking for. Frustrated, he clenched his fist and made a clumsy jabbing motion with his other hand.
Dr. Evil: What about this? Have you ever done (jabbing for effect) this?
Oh fuck, now I get it. Dr. Evil thinks I have AIDS. Okay, Vila, this is where it gets interesting. Do you tell him that you have used needles, but not since you were a teenager and that you have had at least two HIV tests since then? Can you cram all of that into a one-word answer? Make a call, Vila…
Me: No, of course not.
Dr. Evil: Hmm…
Stymied, he decides to switch gears.
Dr. Evil: Okay, how many people have you had sex with?
Great, here we go…
Me: What, like, ever?
Dr. Evil: No, not ever. In the last year.
I almost answer “none,” but then I remember Vancouver. It really was quite the vacation.
Me: Um, two.
Dr. Evil: Ah! So you have, on average, two sexual partners a year?
I stifle a laugh. How do I explain to this guy that Uranus is transiting my relationships sector and that, because of it, my sex life lurches between feast and famine? Moreover, does making out with someone in an alley while blind drunk count?
Me: No, I have had two sexual partners this year. Both completely safely.
He seems disappointed. Moments later, a second doctor enters the examining room.
Dr. Bitch: (Sharply.) Are you pregnant?
I stifle another laugh.
Dr. Bitch: Are you sure? Maybe you are and you don’t know it?
You’re right, doc. It is theoretically possible that God fucked me while I was sleeping last week and that I am now carrying his Son. It’s so like God not to use a condom.
Me: I’m absolutely certain I’m not pregnant.
Dr. Bitch: Because pregnant women get shingles…
I don’t believe this. If only I had a used tampon to prove my chastity.
Me: I assure you that I am not pregnant. I am not now, nor have I ever been, nor, hopefully, will I ever be pregnant.
At this point, the two doctors confer with each other, and I receive my referral to the Infectious Diseases Clinic.
Wish me luck.