The Target

Taza visited to remind me that it was my turn to be the dartboard. I had told Maggie that, a few days ago. Yes, I am the target, at least this week. Another way to put it is "Somedays you're one of the pigeons, Other days you're the Statue".
Besides the dentist appt, which by the way I survived thanks to the aide of modern science and novacaine, I also had my annual check-up and refill my thyroid medicine script visit to my Medical Dr.
He has a dry wit. After answering the usual questions for the nurse, it's time for the face to face with the Doc. "I see you're down 10 pounds from August, are you counting calories"? "No". "Do you excercise"? "A little". "How much do you try to do"? "I guess 20 minutes, 3 or so times a week". Doc says, "you know, walking a mile will burn 100 calories and there are 3500 calories in a pound, might think about not puting the calories in your mouth to start with". He continues thru a list in his mind of the top 8 or 10 things that are going to kill someone of my age and weight, "I'll order a PSA, cholesterol, diabetes, thyroid level, uric acid, and beta HCG, I'll get a phone call on the last one". It's the 'tumor' marker test they run for my now 9 years past bout of testicular cancer. "Doc, why will they call you"? He says "they'll want to know why I'm running a pregnancy test on this gentleman, it's the same test".
He goes on "do you wear your seatbelt?. "Usually". "What, you wear it only when you think you're going to crash"? I smirk and say "I gotcha". "Okay" he says "stand here at the end of the exam table and put your elbows on the table and I'll check your prostate". I start to comply and say "I guess I should drop my pants", he says, "you don't have to, but it will make it easier and I think you'll find it more comfortable". Turns out a digital exam has nothing to do with the read-out on a machine.
I've always said, bedside manner isn't important, I've had some of the worst. Those same Doctors saved my life by not letting things pass like I was asking them to. "No Cliff, you need to see a specialist about this". Turns out I did. One once told me in a waiting room full of strangers that "well I think you've got cancer, can you come down next Monday for an operation". (closest I've ever come to fainting)
Another said "we need to stop your thyroid, it's gone crazy". I said "wait, I've lost 50 pounds, can we just let it go". That Doctor said "your life is similar to a pop bottle rocket on the fourth of July, unless you want to make a ZZZZip sound with a pop at the end, we need to stop your throid, it's decided to run the show by itself". We did. It worked. I hate to admit it but I'm alive because of Doctors.