Has Your Doc Ever Tried To Smooch You?

This is how my doctor appointment went today…

This was my second official visit with this browned-haired Charleston-area doc.   Luckily, I didn’t have to disrobe or even put on a gown.  I thought it was strange that he laid me on the floor, though he did offer a pillow.  He proceeded to inspect my head, neck and arms.  A very kind soul, he kept rubbing my forehead and telling me it’d all be alright.  Honestly, I didn’t know anything was wrong.

“Does your penis hurt?” he asks.

“I don’t have a penis.  I’m a girl.”

“You do.  You have a little penis.”  He says, matter-of-factly.

“No, girls don’t have penises.”

“It’s okay,” he assures.  “You’ll feel better soon.  There’s a machine right here.”  He then covers me with a blanket and pulls it up under my chin.  He reaches across me to pull up the blanket, inadvertently choking me with his elbow several times. 

He instructs, “You need to cooperate.”  I thought I was.  Then I wondered where he learned that word.  Cooperate.

He gently touches my cheek.  “Awww.  You’ll feel better soon.  I’m a doctor.”  I’m holding back my hysterics now, with a few chuckles slipping out.

“Don’t cry, you will be okay.”  He kisses my cheek and then one eyelid, “I love you, mommy.  I’ll be your doctor everytime.”