A hard fought battle. Lost.

Uh...yeah, so I went to the doctor yesterday for an annual physical.


To kick it off, I  had a lab tech dig around in my elbow and eventually blow the vein she was aiming for.  After that she listened to me and went to my hand (where I had suggested she try in the first place...) she finally hit a vein and got her blood.

Freakin' vampire.

Then, later on in the day I went back for the actual exam.  The doctor sits down, pulls up the chart from the blood draw and lets out a long, painful, and telling sigh.   It was the sigh that could be heard around the world.  Being the realist that I try to be, I finally said "Just spit it.  It's clearly not good...so just hit me with it".  

So he did.  

At some point, all I could hear was blah blah blah overweight.  Blah blah blah poor diet.  Blah blah blah exercise more.  Blah blah blah need to change...  Oh, and by the way, you are due for a tetanus shot, and flu shot.  

Super.  The vampire was coming back with her pink scrubs and matching tote full of needles.  My day had come full circle.  Or so I thought.

So... that made needle sticks number 3 and 4, and I was kinda feeling like I had just lost the last round of a prize fight. I decided to take one more swing.  The knockout swing: 

Me: So Doc, If I understood you correctly, I am stressed out, need to eat a low fat/lean diet, need to lose weight and exercise more...right? 
Doc: Yep.
Me:  Sweet.   You'll be available later for a conference call with my wife to help explain why I need a new fly rod, waders and associated equipment to ensure that I hit the streams in the best possible position to get some aerobic exercise and relieve stress..right? 
You said something about at least 1/2 hour per day of elevated heart rate...right?  
Fish is low fat and lean right?
Doc: Nope.  Not going to bite on that one.  Get the pun?  Sorry.  Perhaps your wife can teach you to bake chicken, steam vegetables and take walks with her...no equipment needed.  
Oh, and first on the list to go is Mt. Dew.  
Me: Ouch.

Before he left, he hit me with one last shot. HIS knockout punch:

He reminded me that even though I am now 40, he had allowed me to escape the dreaded finger up the ole bunghole...but based on family history of colon cancer...had ordered a colonoscopy instead.

And just like that...I folded and crumpled to the floor in a pile of retched defeat.

...and my wife wonders why I don't visit the doctor very often....

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