I hate doctors. I avoid them at all costs. There's nothing worse than a condescending asshole that helps people. You can't hate that guy. I went to the doctor over the summer because my allergies were insufferable and the old war veteran of a doctor told me to "suck it up, kid." That was literally is diagnosis. Suck it up. I'm sorry sir, why don't you suck it up. But you can't say that to a man who fought in WW2 for our freedom and helps people on a daily basis. Selfish asshole.
Anyway, I've had many medical problems mount up to the point where I had no choice but to see a doctor. Specifically, this morning at 8am (shudder, shudder), I saw Dr. Patel in Park Slope. The practice sort of felt like being in what I imagine an abortion clinic in Bangladesh to be...I don't think using an old milk carton as a paper weight gives off the best impression, but what do I know, I'm not a doctor.
So Dr. Patel is asking me the standard first visit questions; "what medications do you take, any family history of diabetes or heart disease, blah blah..." But then the following conversation literally takes place:
Dr. Patel: And do you smoke cigarettes?
DP: Do you drink?
DP: Do you take recreational drugs?
Me: Uh, no.
DP: Let me rephrase this for you, do you take recreational drugs? And yes Ms. this does include marijuana and cocaine. ::gives glaring look::
Me: Right, so no.
DP: ::heavily sighs:: Listen, I'm not a police officer, I don't care, I just need to know for medical reasons. Do you smoke marijuana or snort cocaine?
Me: Uhhh well I've never done coke, but...umm...I don't know, yea I guess I smoke marijuana. Sometimes. I mean I have. But like, I'm not like, a pothead or anything. I don't really...
DP: How frequently do you smoke this marijuana?
Me: Ummmm...Uhh...well I mean, I don't buy really, like if it's there and other people are smoking, then game on, but like I don't have a dealer or anything--not here at least, back home I had some connections but nothing too frequent. It's just like a social thing, but I guess that doesn't justify doing drugs...but umm...
DP: :: deadpan, cold eyes staring through me:: That's enough.
WTF?! I never knew a small Indian man with a thick accent and no hair could make me act so unbelievably awkward and truthful when really his question just warranted a simple "No." I just rambled on and on and I couldn't stop, and the more I rambled the deeper his brow furrowed and the more nervous and honest I got. I told my mom this story when I got to work this morning and her reaction was "Well...looking at you, people are going to assume some things." Huh? I'm currently wearing an Anne Taylor dress, not hemp pants with an oversized Bob Marley T-shirt.
In other news, there was a really hot guy on the subway this morning with a cast on his arm and scratches all over his wrist. Is it wrong I was attracted to this not because maybe he got in a fight and he's a total badass who could defend my honor, but rather because I like to imagine that he's just clumsy and he probably has a really good story about how he roughed up his arm. Screw being macho, if you’re awkward and clumsy, now we're talking marriage material.
Sha la la!