Pretend It’s Your IQ

For those who don’t know, an annual physical has a lot of simple tapping, touching and listening and the… well, let’s just say one part of the exam is extremely unpleasant.

The sign on the scale at my doctor’s office says, “Pretend it’s your IQ.” Mazel tov. I’m smarter! The increase in my weight was less than I feared and the only bad news with today’s trip for my annual physical (14 months–but who, except my physician is counting).

These exams started a few years ago for me. Mainly the results are fine. I have the typical changes an aging boy sees. From time-to-time some tests have had to be repeated, but the second result is always within reason and I’m patted on the head and sent on my way.

I asked for a lollipop as I left today. They have none.

A few years ago as my doctor and I were talking about some minor bump he blurted out, “It’s not cancer.”

Until that moment the thought of cancer had never entered my mind–never. Now I can’t not think about it.

For those who don’t know, an annual physical has a lot of simple tapping, touching and listening and the… well, let’s just say one part of the exam is extremely unpleasant. Other than that my blood pressure and lungs seem OK. My legs pop forward when hit with a mallet. I have no unexplained aches and pains.

Actually, there’s still one more piece of this medical puzzle to come. Tomorrow I’ll skip breakfast and head to the lab to get blood drawn. There are vials to be filled so more tests can be taken. I’m confident those will be fine as well.

To paraphrase my doctor I’m in excellent shape for someone of my age. Though, honestly, who wants to be my age?