Doctors don't cause pain

My wife, being the economist that she is, wanted to save a few dollars on some of these doctor visits I’ve been making lately. “We need to get our moneys worth out of these appointments,” she would say. So, while the doctor is trying to determine if I’m going to live or die, Jan begins to point out all the little bodily things that need fixed while Greg is in the medical clinic repair shop.

She points out this spot on my head that should be taken a look at or that toenail that looks like it should be removed and burned before the fungus takes over the city. She wants to know what can be done about the soreness in my back because I’m not of much use around the house, or the doctor must look in my ears because she swears I’m going deaf.

During our first visit that Jan was pointing these things out the doctor wisely told her, “Let’s take care of the current problem during this visit then we can look at those other things in a subsequent appointment.”

She agreed but I’m sure I heard her mutter somewhere between the office and the parked car that, “he didn’t want to take a look at those things because he only wants another twenty dollar co-pay from us.”
Well, her patience paid off. On that subsequent visit, after the doctor explained that they were going to have to drill a Jupiter sized hole in my skull and remove large portions of brain matter that would leave me in a vegetative state for all eternity, he then rather cheerfully said, “ Oh, and lets take care of a few of those spots on your head.”

I swear, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my wife pump her fist in the air and then heard a whispered shout, “Yes!”

Now, when I was a boy, no one ever told me that a few searing sunburns each summer would eventually lead to skin cancer when I was older. So, I would run, romp and play unprotected under the atomic radioactive blast we call the sun throughout the pleasant month’s of freedom and joy.

I never should have made fun in school of those kids whose mom’s had more foresight and made their children wear asbestos suits when they went out to play. And the grief I gave this one child because his mom always made him carry around an umbrella to shade him from the sun’s death rays. It’s a wonder I can even sleep at night. That umbrella though was always a hindrance when it came to sports… or assemblies… or dating.

So, when the doctor announced that he wanted to biopsy two spots then freeze a few others I agreed to be a good patient. His nurse came in and said she was going to numb me up first. Good idea I thought. Then she started to stick the syringe several times around the spots to be biopsied. “You’re not allergic to lidocaine are you?” she asked as an afterthought.

“We’ll all find out in a minute, won’t we?” I replied.

There’s not much fat to absorb the pain of a shot in the forehead…only a thin layer of skin to use in a wrinkled brow to protect the skull. So, those nerves are close to the syringe impact site. The nurse told me that this would sting a little. Yea, it stung like a herd of hornets.

She would then tap, poke and stab the numbed sites to make sure these were sufficiently anesthetized. “Can you feel that?” she’d ask. Since I wasn’t responding I obviously wasn’t feeling it. “Ha,” the nurse said. “Now, you can be called a numbskull.”

I’m sure she had been waiting for years to spring that little joke on someone who wouldn’t feel like kicking her.

The doctor then took a plug from each side of my forehead that he felt were suspect and placed them into a small jar. The little skin pellets slowly sank to the bottom of the container with a thin strand of blood trailing each. It reminded me of the ribbons gymnasts in the Olympics use to prance around with. You know, that event you never see televised.

Then the doctor pulled out his freeze ray gun. It reminded me of an oil can. “You will probably feel a burning sensation as I freeze these other areas,” he explained.

Doctors have a class in med school that teaches them all the synonyms for pain. Words like sensation, feeling or discomfort. Sometimes they’ll use words to describe pain like poke, sting, or burning. But they always avoid the word pain. Sort of like the banker that doesn’t use the word debt or the businessman that uses the word agreement instead of contract. All meant to soften the “pain.”

Using his fingers to skim over my forehead to locate danger spots like a blind man reading Braile, the doctor began his assault. You would expect a freezing sensation to feel different than burning but, each time he spayed an area it felt like hot lava was being poured onto my skin.

I winced, I grimaced, I screamed for mercy. All to no avail. The doctor even commented on the funny faces I was making. “I’ll show you a funny face,” I thought as I closed my eyes tighter and tried to go to a happy place in my mind. But each time the happy place came it was quickly evaporated with another stinging, burning, pain to the head.

Relief came as the doctor announced he thought he had gotten them all. He sounded pleased. I looked over to my wife for comfort and support. She had a strange grin on her face and I swear, as we walked through the waiting room I saw her, out of the corner of my eye, pump her fist in the air and then heard her in a muffled yell, “yes!”