I had an appointment today with a dermatologist. My GP seems to think that my multitude of moles need to have an eye kept on them. So off I went today for my first visit.
I knew that the Doctor would want to have a look at my back and legs, so I wore shorts to make it an easier inspection. Turns out that they were gonna want a more complete look than that.
I wasn’t prepared for that.
They told me I could keep my boxers on, but I would need to shed the rest of my clothing. Well, this particular pair of boxers has a nasty habit of coming open at the fly. Most of them don’t, but this pair does. Everyone has a pair of undies that require them to make discreet adjustments now and again. I wore my pair to this appointment.
So after I disrobe I am handed one of those hospital gowns. I breathe a small sigh of relief, no matter that these things are pathetic attempts to maintain a bit of modesty, at least my randomly open barn door is going to be shielded.
So in come the doctor and her resident. The doctor looks old enough to be my grandma. The resident looks young enough for me to have babysat her.
After the introductions, we began the exam. Turns out that the teensy-weensy gown is somehow in the way. I’m asked to take it off.
So, off it comes. I fixed my gaze steadily on their eyes when they addressed me, the wall cabinetry the rest of the time. The exam went amazingly fast. I was told that though I have a lot of freckles and moles, none seem to be grounds for concern. They were gone in no more than 3 minutes.
They breezed out telling me that I could leave as soon as I got dressed. Only then did I have the courage to look down at the problematic barn door.
I still haven’t rounded up my horses.