I had an appointment with my oncologist last week. The man barely cracks a smile even when I’m making cracks about my crack while my pants are around my ankles. It’s a pretty funny situation if you’re not in it. He hasn’t got a bad bedside manner per se. It’s more like he’s never developed one.
Anyone who can keep a straight face while I hide behind a door, and grrrr when he closes it while I’m dressed only in my sneakers is my type of guy. That’s my radiologist. He’s got a great sense of humor or is he just humoring me? Does it really matter? He’s seen me at my most vulnerable (remember when my ASS looked like the eye of Sauron? I’ve got pictures). How do you keep all that information in without exploding? That’s right…drugs.I bet he can get some pretty good ones if needed. Or alcohol. If I had to see what I saw a few months ago on a daily basis I’d be drunk every night after work. Or comfortably numb in some other fashion.
But the human body is an amazing thing. Look at how much abuse it takes and most of the time it keeps on ticking. And mine is extremely grateful that my clock hasn’t run out just yet. 54 months and counting until I’m “cancer free” and a few months until my next visit with Dr. No Crack. Plenty of time to figure out a way to make my oncologist prove he’s not a walking dead.