Doctor Doctor

I think my doctor may not actually be a doctor, but a psychic pretending to be a doctor. Not that I’m dissatisfied with the results, mind you, but her bedside manner is a little, well, un-physical. Other than my yearly, during which intimate physical contact is unavoidable.

Today I went in because I had one monster dizzy spell about 4 weeks ago, and have been having them off and on since then. And my pinky hurts.

It did not occur to me to go to the doctor for the dizziness, first because I am a little scared of my doctor, to whom I shall refer as The Goob. Second, I am the reigning Queen of Ridiculous Ailments. I feel slightly off for a little while, then describe how I’m feeling to someone, and they look at me in horror and tell me to go to the doctor.

It’s neverserious. And I’m thankful for that, even if I feel a little silly. Headaches, stomach problems, skin problems. All those things turn out to be totally normal to doctors, only weird to lay people. The last thing like that was the Christmas tree rash. You just google that if you want more info.

So back to The Goob. I’m sitting in the little room waiting for her, and she knocks once, bursts in, and shuts the door hard behind her. It could have been a slam, but here I give her the benefit of the doubt. She sits in the chair across the room from me, about 7 feet away, opens my chart and starts reading. It’s quiet for about a minute. She looks up and says “So?”

I describe the dizziness, when it started, the kind of dizziness, how it comes back and just makes me a little seasick, and then goes away. I finish in about 30 seconds, and nearly before I’m done, she says “Viral labrynthitis. This is something you catch in your inner ear, and it makes you very sick and dizzy for a few hours and then it will still be there, but not so strong. In two weeks, you will be fine. Maybe it will come back again, but not as bad the next time.”

The pinky thing takes us another 2 minutes (arthritis from too much ctrl-xing). She has not moved from her seat the entire time. Doesn’t she want to look in my ear? What about the way my pinky cracks when I move it like this? But I don’t ask, believe you me.

She tells me to take an Advil a day, snaps my chart shut, says “Anything else?” and finally, gets up out of her seat. By the time I get my shit together, she’s nowhere to be seen.