Tattle Tale

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 thatย was unpleasant. Luka started asking about Brian’s history; his conditions, surgeries, the usual stuff.

Luka: Do you have heartburn?*

Brian: No.

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?

Brian: Oh.

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?

Brian: No.

Me: You have sleep apnea!

Brian: Not anymore!

Brian CPAP

Your husband who snores so loud he rattles the windows won't wear his CPAP? Tell him he won't be sleeping in the marital bed unless he does. Works like a charm.

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 ofย 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.

Me: Hah!

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.

Brian: No.

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.”

Yeah, well.

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?


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50 thoughts on “Tattle Tale”

  1. The anesthesiologist I had with all three pregnancies is probably the reason I had more than one child, to be brutally honest. I’m totally bummed he saw me naked, though. Twice.

    Poor Brian. POOR YOU!

      1. I forgot to mention his impeccable taste in music! He plugged in his iPod and Tim and I, along with all the doctors, belted out in harmony Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” and my daughter was born to the tune of “Fat Bottomed Girls.” Oh how I wish we could’ve filmed it. Good times, good times.

      2. This is so hilarious it reminds me of going to my husbands doctors appointments with him. We do the same thing, and I’m in your role. Hehehehehehehe.!

        1. Oye, some men are like that, huh? My mom sends my dad to the doctor with typed notes, and she’s an RN so it’s way worse, way more specific.

          And thank you! My husband is so freaking hysterical, he makes me laugh all the time.

      3. Oh wow, that was so funny. I literally laughed out loud at work. My husband would never want me to come with him because I would tell the doctor the truth about him too. Wish I could go though so I could get a glimps of a hot doctor or two. ๐Ÿ˜‰

      4. Those tests?
        for him
        For you?
        Luka calls them trysts
        in his mind
        He’s says “I’m going to schedule you for some trysts”
        in his mind

        Yes, I know all about these Doctors.
        they are randy folk.


      5. I get all snarky and smart-assy when we are at the doc too. My OB appointments? That Cort came to every single one? They were full of snark. My OB told me we were the funniest couple he ever met. There was eye rolling though, now that I think about it.

      6. This totally cracked me up. My husband is so like that. I can see us doing that. In fact, I’ve booked apointments for the kids, made him come and then made him get on the table.

        Good times, good times.

      7. totally reminds me of the time i took the hubs in for a concussion?

        and the cat scan showed a tumor?

        the doctor did not appreciate my humor at all…


        1. Whoa! Seriously?

          Yup, I’d totally be making jokes, and the doctors would be trying to make me understand that this is serious, and I’d be all, I get it! But am I really making it worse by joking? And I don’t really know another way to deal anyway, so here come my smart ass remarks!

      8. Best. Post. Ever! You are too, too funny. I’d bet your husband begs you to go with him to the doctor because he needs the chuckles during such unpleasantries. (Yeah, that’s not a word, but oh well.)

        Maybe Luka will be on the scene when Brian goes for the tests. Have fun!

        1. Thank you!

          My husband doesn’t really like to go anywhere alone. Kind of annoying, that.

          Luka won’t be there at the tests, but maybe for the follow-up! Brian doesn’t need to go to that one, right? I could probably go by myself. Yeah!

      9. Thank you so much, my dear, I needed to laugh tonight. I am so both the person who goes to medical appointments with EVERYONE (husband, kids, parents, mother-in-law) because I have a medical oriented mind (and can actually remember doctor’s directions) AND the person who has to bite her tongue to not be making goofy, snarky, semi-inappropriate jokes the whole time. My husband – likewise 12 y.o. in sense of humor & together we are just evil, a running comedy show. And doctors without a sense of humor – I live to torture them. I get it in the genes: my Dad was an extremely funny man, and my mom is too (read my old post from Feb. “The next slice” for proof of this). When Dad was first in & out of the hospital a few years ago he was not yet completely deaf and could still answer questions. I had to make sure I there they were evaluating him at intake, because he would be making all kinds of funny jokes and he’d have some humorless git of an ER intern writing it all down & thinking he was “mentally altered” and I’d have to be defending him going “It’s a joke, he’s joking!” and yelling at my Dad to stop it already and answer the questions straight (while totally cracking up because Damn, that man was funny.) I miss him.

          1. It’s totally in the genes! My dad and my grandma both just kill with the inappropriate humor. Doctors see more of it than most people because that’s how we deal with difficult situations!

            Oh, but at the funeral home when we were making arrangements for my grandpa’s funeral? Yikes. That funeral director did NOT know what to make of us! We’d cry awhile, then bust out a series of seriously morbid jokes, than go back to crying again.

        1. This post has given me the strangest desire to come along with my friends for their doctors’ appointments.

          Though that’d be creepy.

          And it’s your fault.

          See, now you’ve made me the creepy friend.

          I hope you’re happy with yourself.

          1. Oh, you know what’s the best? Go along with a friend who’s in labor! There are more opportunities for ridiculously inappropriate humor at a birth than at any other place or time.

            I’m cracking myself up just remembering!

            My dear, aren’t you already the creepy friend? It’s the best kind of friend to be!

            1. my ex couldn’t EVER remember to tell the doctor anything when he would go. He also refused to allow me to go with him (after he realized I would list the symptoms). So I started calling the dr office and giving them the list of symptoms or whatever BEFORE his appointment. One day he figured it out and banned calling the doctor. He said “you are not allowed to talk to the doctor, period” so being the obedient, submissive wife he demanded…I faxed the doctor a list, emailed a list, etc…but NEVER again did I TALK to the doctor about his ass…

              1. Hah! You’re a genius! My mom sends my dad to the doctor with NOTES, but my mom (an RN) and the doctor (they’ve had the same one for 35 years) are in cahoots, so my dad has no way out.

            2. This is hilarious! Despite his CRS (Can’t Remember Shit) he did not undermine your chances with the Hot Doc by defending your honor. I’d say he got a point for that. ๐Ÿ™‚

                1. hey, I actually DO need abdominal surgery to repair the 4 inch tear in my abdominal muscles that was the gift of carrying twins to full term (14 lbs. of babies at 39 weeks.) Maybe I could come do it in Albuquerque, then the kids wouldn’t be jumping on me while I’m trying to recover. Yeah, I’m liking this idea more and more… what was that doc’s number again? Oh, wait, if he’s doing the surgery he’s going to see my post-full-term-twins belly in all it’s saggy glory… never mind.

                2. How can you have my crying with one post, and then have me laughing my ass off a few minutes later? It’s 2:45am right now, I should be in bed, AND I CAN’T STOP READING!!!

                  Good lord woman, your writing is better than crack covered with marshmallow whip. ๐Ÿ˜€

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