My Annual Checkup - (HUMOR) : LUSENET : Countryside : One Thread

Once a year, I’m supposed to go leave the homestead and go get a physical to ensure that I am dying as slowly as possible. It’s a very painful process that almost makes me look forward to dying just so that I won’t have to endure the annual procedure anymore.

My wife usually makes the appointment for me, and reminds me that I’m to fast for what seems like three days beforehand. Whoever coined the term “fast” was a sickening optimist or a wishful thinker. By the time I find myself sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, I’m ready to kill and eat one of the nurses. A pregnant lady sitting across from me pulls a Twinkie out of her purse and starts to snack. It’s only by a supreme effort of self control that I can keep from whining like a sick fire truck.

Frieda, a Nurse with a face that would make Hulk Hogan look effeminate, steps into the room. “what’s that noise?” she says “Where’s the fire?” A bit of drool escapes from my mouth as I emit a low growl. “Mr. Holton,” she continues, “while we’re waiting for the doctor, could you fill this cup, please”. She holds out a small plastic vial. “Not from here.” I say. She looks disgruntled, obviously missing my humor. “If you would just go to the restroom and relieve yourself and then bring this to me half full, please.” It sounds as if I’m supposed to give myself a foot massage or something. I start to wonder about the caloric value of the paper towels in the bathroom.

It’s not as bad as when I was in the Army. At least I get the bathroom to myself. The Army had a policy that the Non Commissioned Officer in charge of the “random drug testing” had to physically observe you filling the cup. This, however, is a physiological impossibility, especially when the NCO in question insists on acting like a major league umpire and shouting “Come on, son, FILL IT, FILL IT NOW!!”

I am soon escorted to a small room with an examination table in it, and instructed to strip to my skivvies and wait for the doctor. The room is freezing. I feel like I’m sitting inside one of those cases at the grocery store where they store the frozen pizza. Pizza…..a bit of drool escapes my mouth and freezes on my chin. It’s February, but it’s got to be warmer outside than it is in this room. I go to the floor to ceiling window at one end of my cell and pull the shade, looking for a way to open it. Several people in the parking lot outside stop and stare before I realize that I’m in my skivvies. They act like they’ve never seen goose bumps before.

The doctor must be very popular, since he must have stopped somewhere on the way to my room to do a book signing or something. By the time he bursts into the room I’m chewing on a tongue depressor in a hypothermic stupor. “Cribbing, yes?” he says thoughtfully and makes a mark on his clipboard. “I’ve never played,” I answer. After thumping on my back in a few places while having me demonstrate that I still know how to breathe, we come to the dreaded “turn your head” routine. I suddenly become painfully aware of what took the doctor so long to get here. He wasn’t at a book signing, he was involved in a snowball fight, without mittens. “Cough.” The doctor commands, but I’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

Then, just when I think the worst is over, he says "Now, turn around, please."

I just wonder who first thought up this procedure. I'd wager it was a bunch of rowdy medical grad students that wanted to play a joke on the new guys. "Okay, now you need to learn to check a prostate..." they'd say, snickering into their lab coats.

It's no wonder most men would rather amputate their own toes with a pizza roller than get their annual checkup. It's humiliating, and I pay money for it. Annually.

It reminds me of what Ray Stephens once said, “The practice of medicine is a must, but must they always practice on us?”

-- Chuck (, March 04, 2002


LOL!! Good one Chuck! And I thought us women were the only ones that suffered!!

-- cowgirlone in OK (, March 04, 2002.

LOL! After his last prostate exam, my DH informed me that he now knew exactly what he was going to die from. It was going to be prostate cancer, because he was NEVER going to have that exam again! ;-)

-- Cheryl in KS (, March 04, 2002.

You men...complain, complain, complain :-)!! Just one question, though. Why does your wife make your appointment for you make her appointment for her??

-- Marcia (, March 04, 2002.

Well, there are over 30,000 deaths from prostate cancer in the U.S. each year & over 2.9 million cases of prostate disease reported in the U.S. each year -

If I were a man, I would vote for the 5 minutes of humiliation.

I realize that some of these tests are controversial, BUT... As a woman, I vote for the 10 min. of humiliation it takes me to have my annual exam.

I have a husband & a daughter to think about!

Plus, my o.b. looks like Einstein (hair & all!), so I just laugh to myself about that for 10 minutes!! ;)

-- heather (, March 04, 2002.

"...involved in a snowball fight...without mittens"! ROFLMAO

-- Debbie in MO (, March 04, 2002.

My doctor makes me undure a digital exam every year. My last two doctors did that too! I'm beginning to believe that's how doctors greet you!!!!!

-- woodsbilly N.C.Pa. (, March 04, 2002.

Funny one Chuck! Reminds me of the discussion my brother and I had a few years ago. He lives in the next town over so I was suprised to hear that he went to the same clinic as I do. I asked who his doctor was and he said, "Dr. Elizabeth". I asked why he went to a lady doctor. His reply was, "Because when I have to have my yearly prostate exam, I want a doctor with the smallest fingers"!

-- Jean in No. WI (, March 04, 2002.

All I can say is...ever had a mammogram? At least all the doctor does to YOU is hold you in his icy grip. Imagine placing a vice.

-- Tracy (, March 04, 2002.

Connie threatens to do that to me every time she has a baby...

-- Chuck (, March 04, 2002.

Why guys get flaky about having medical procedures is beyond my comprehension. Years ago when I ran a repair shop the customer would stand and watch while I rebuilt a starter or replaced brake shoes and weren't embarrassed at all. When I have a physical exam and the doc instructs me to bend over and proceeds to give me the proverbial "finger wave", I'm not embarrassed. I figure, hey, He's checking the condition of my prostate gland. I assume he's a proffessional doing his job, not a wierdo getting his jollies. Last year, when I turned 50, he said I needed the sigmoid/colorectal know the game : put on the robe, layon your side on the little bench, the nurse is there to help him, we chit-chat, talk about ice fishing, all while the little camera tube is a foot & a half inside me looking for problems. He and the nurse comment on what a clean, perfect colon I have...I say what the heck...after being on a vegetarian diet for 7 years it should be good. They agree. My point being this: be d___n glad we live in a time where we can be tested and treated if necessary for medical problems. Some of the procedures may cause some discomfort, but considering the discomfort of dying from an undetected cancer......well...I'm just very thankful for my good health.

-- andy (, March 04, 2002.

Now place the afore mentioned vise grips, straight from the freezer, into places only intended for procreation......then open them.....

Chuck you are very funny.... I love your posts... MY FAV... the food bar in the shower..... ROFLLLLLLLLL still

-- Kristean Thompson (, March 04, 2002.

I tend to look at that experience as a necessary bit of discomfort but am not particularly embarrassed by it under normal circumstances. It was a little awkward when (and I swear this is true) I had "assumed the position" only to have a nurse enter who happened to have been someone with whom I'd attended HS and was an acquaintance of my spouse. Somehow I didn't find that the time for the idle chit chat about the kids and school, etc. Maybe it's just me. LOL

-- Gary in Indiana (, March 06, 2002.

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