A Trip to the Doctor, Part II

Well, my mother finally took me to the grown-up doctor the other day. The waiting room was decidedly un-fun, so I won't bore you with the details there.

Soon enough, I was ushered into an examining room, where Doctor M. was waiting. Doctor M. asked me where I went to high school and college, and immediately after I was finished telling him, he piped in with, "I went to Fieldston and PENN." I guess some notion popped into Doctor M.'s mind that he would forge a bond with me over our common ground of Ivy League education, because he kept making references to it during the physical examination. "Your shoulder looks alright- you know I dislocated my shoulder playing baseball at PENN." "I might refer you to a gastroenterologist- I know him from PENN." And finally, when I couldn't read a prescription he wrote, "Oh that’s just my PENN handwriting."

At that point, we were almost done with the examination, but Doctor M. still had to ask me a few questions about my lifestyle. He ticked off the diet and sexual questions, and finally he got to the alcohol and drug questions:

Doctor M.: OK, Dan, I'm gonna ask you a few questions about alcohol and drugs. Now remember, I won't tell your parents, I won't even keep a record of it, I just need to know this stuff to help me diagnose you. So how often do you drink alcohol?

Me: Once a week.

Doctor M.: Come on, a young guy like you, that doesn't sound right.

Me: Yeah, four times a week is more like it. Don't tell my mom though, really she has a thing about drunk drivers.

Doctor M.: Dan, I told you this is confidential- strictly between you and me. OK now moving on to drugs. Have you ever smoked marijuana?

Me (sheepish grin)

Doctor M.: Can I assume from your sheepish grin that the answer is yes? Don't worry about it, Dan, even I tried a few doobies back at PENN. Again, I have to emphasize that I will not tell your parents any of this information. It’s just so I can figure out what’s wrong with you.

Me: I'm sorry, you're right. I'll just answer truthfully from now on.

Doctor M.: Good. Now have you ever tried mushrooms?

Me: No.

Doctor M.: LSD?

Me: No.

Doctor M.: PCP?

Me: No.

Doctor M.: Methamphetamine?

Me: No.

Doctor M.: Cocaine?

Me: Uh, yes.

Doctor M.: HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS! You did YAYO? I bet it was amazing! It was amazing, wasn't it?

Me: I don't know, I guess. I only did it a couple times.

Doctor M.: MAN, I heard it makes you feel like you're fucking king of the world!

Me: I mean, yeah it makes you feel good.

Doctor M.: Come on, gimme the lowdown. What if I've got a girl at my place who is DOWN TO FUCK. We do a couple lines, can I still, you know, get it on?

Me: I haven't really tried that. What, what does this have to do with my stomach pains?

Doctor M.: Dan, I need to know everything in order to diagnose you properly. Geez, my wife would kill me if she knew I were talking to you about this- (nagging jewish wife voice) "YAY-o, aww you insane? You're a doctah!" (normal voice) But I mean, godDAMNit, we're talking about fucking king of the world here, right?

Me: Could you just tell me what's wrong with me?

Doctor M.: Yeah, I’ll drink some shots first, then do the stuff, get some symbiotic shit going on up there. What’s a good number of lines to do at one time? TEN! No, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But seriously, four is solid, right?

Me (leaving the room): I’ll see you later. I’m going back to Doctor Mom. There’s really no ailment she can’t cure with orange juice and Back to the Future on VHS.

Doctor M. (yelling back at me): Come back, Dan. A few more questions and I would have had a diagnosis!