I was thinking "Dry? No way. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about, even at my age." Then she asked, for the second time, "Do you do regular monthly breast exams?"
Then I did say, "Are you kidding me? With these giant globes, my breasts get more action than a Vegas casino on a Saturday night." And I winked. Didn’t know where that came from. Guess my usual way of using humor in uncomfortable or overly sterile situations. The good doctor didn’t even crack a smile. Just looked at me underneath her glasses riding halfway down her nose.
The truth was, my body hadn’t had much action since my divorce.
And as quickly as the doctor appeared, she disappeared. I was told to get dressed. And as I clasped my bra, she knocked again, fully expecting me to be finished. It took a little more time than that to put us all back together.
I didn’t answer the knock, trying desperately to get my top back on but she entered anyway. "Oh, I thought you’d be done." I smiled knowingly to myself. Guess she really didn’t know what my life was all about. Because, believe me, there was no chance I wasn’t going to know what was going on with my breasts and my body was well lubricated, thank you very much. Even at my age. Maybe, especially at my age. Maybe I hadn’t had much action here lately but my years of living had given me the experience to get to know my body quite well.
She looked over my chart and told me my blood pressure and cholesterol levels were all quite good. She gazed at me, through her reading glasses, looking rather surprised and said, "Guess you’ve got good genes."
At my weight and age (who made up those weight charts anyway?), I think she expected something else. Something her medical books told her:
1. If a patient is over 20 pounds "overweight," check for health risks A, B, and C.
2. If a patient is over 40, check for health risks, X, Y, and Z.
3. If a patient does not fit our diagnostics, shake your head.
