I took Brian to the doctor today.
Why? “I want you to keep me company,” says he, “and besides, I never remember what they tell me.”
Indeed, his memory is poor. Otherwise? He would know that I cannot resist my impulses to taunt, mock, tattle, tease, and in general be a giant pain-in-the-ass.
Seriously, he makes this shit way too easy.
We were sitting in the exam room discussing my hypochondriac husband’s various (and almost certainly fatal) ailments and making fart jokes (because in addition to being a hypochondriac Brian is also a twelve year old boy) when the resident walked in.
Oh, hello, beautiful!
And then? The resident opened his mouth and started to speak.
Oh, beautiful man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes and a smooth European accent that is making me want to slide out of the chair and onto the floor like butter that’s melting all over your….
Yeah, seriously. A young Dr. Luka Kovac.
Then? Brian and Luka entered into a long and extremely explicit discussion about my husband’s bowel habits, so that was unpleasant. Luka started asking about Brian’s history; his conditions, surgeries, the usual stuff.
Luka: Do you have heartburn?*
Me: You do! He has a hiatal hernia, a pretty serious one and he’s supposed to take a triple dose of Prilosec everyday but he hasn’t taken it in a couple of years.
Brian: Because I don’t have heartburn!
Me: You mean like last night? When you were complaining and coughing and asking me if we had any Tums?
Luka: So you do have heartburn.
Brian: Hardly ever.
Me: (Theatrically.) Sigh.
Luka: Any respiratory issues?
Brian: I have asthma. I haven’t had any problems lately, though.
Luka: Anything else?
Me: You have sleep apnea!
Brian: Not anymore!
Me: You do, too! Why am I sleeping next to a Storm Trooper if you don’t have sleep apnea anymore? (To Luka, softly, with just a hint of come hither in my voice.) He uses CPAP.
Luka: Every night?
Me: Every night that he sleeps in the bed with me.
Brian: (Rolling his eyes loudly.) Yes, every night.
People? I try. I try so damn hard, but the smart ass part of me? Dominant.
On a related note, some doctors are absolutely humorless and don’t care much for me, which is fine because it’s mutual.
Luka was examining Brian’s belly, hunting for the hernia that was supposed to be the reason for our visit and asked, “You’re sure you had hernia surgery before? I can’t find a scar. Did they do it laparoscopically?”
I was watching this examination thinking, “I have a pain. Yes, something is pulling! Or tugging! Or…vaguely uncomfortable. Yes! I should probably ask for an examination!”
Brian: No, it was open.
Luka: I don’t see a scar. I can’t see anything over here.
Me: Look on the other side.
Brian: No, it was on the left side.
Me: Seriously. Look on the other side.
Brian: We hadn’t even met when I had that surgery! How would you know?
Luka: Here it is. It was on your right.
Brian: Shut up!
Luka: I’ll be right back.
And he did come back, this time with the supervising physician, Dr. C, who told Brian to stand up and drop his drawers. Luka and Dr. C got down nice and low for this part of the examination.
Head-to-head, as it were.
Dr. C: Turn your head and cough.
Brian: Cough cough (dissolving into giggles trying to control it try harder a little harder do not giggle oh my God why is my wife making those ridiculous faces I’ll never control the urge to bust out laughing are they really both down there investigating things that closely what the hell could they possibly be doing why aren’t they finished yet?!?)
Dr. C: You can pull up your pants. Have you been tested for [medical condition] or this other [medical condition] or even [this extremely ominous sounding medical condition]?
Brian: No, none of that.
Dr. C: I’m going to send you for some tests and then I’ll refer you to some other specialists. This isn’t surgical; you don’t have a hernia. Has anyone ever tested your adrenal function? You have some symptoms of over-active adrenals.
Me: That could make a person crabby, right? I mean, too much cortisol, that could make someone a total bitch!
Dr. C: Yes, it definitely could.
Me: I think he has that. (Promptly slap hand over mouth to hold in the follow-up smart ass remarks.)
When Dr. C and Luka left the room, Luka waved at me. There was longing in his eyes, the tiniest hint of an invitation, a look that said, “We’ve shared something special here today. Something I will remember with fondest affection for the heat and passion that could have been.”
I told Brian about the look in Luka’s eyes and he said, “Yes, I saw that. [Again with the loud eye rolling; what is wrong with him?] I was thinking about kicking his ass to defend your honor but then I noticed you had drooled all over yourself.”
Me: You know I only love you, right? That you’re the only person I want to climb on, right?
Brian: Yeah, I know. The accent on a West Virginia boy just isn’t the same, is it?
Me: (Theatrically.) Sigh.
Now? Brian has to have an abdominal CT, a colonoscopy, an endoscopy, have half a gallon of blood drawn for testing, and I don’t even remember what else. Getting into the elevator, I was all happy. Hah! I told on him and now he has to go for lots of unpleasant tests!
Me: Hah! And you wanted me to come with you. Now you have to get cameras stuck into all your holes, so HAH!
Brian: You know I have to be sedated for some of those, right? And that someone has to drive me, right? That you have to drive me?