Doctor, Doctor, give me the news...

Today, I went in for my first ever physical exam. At 32, yeah, it's been overdue for a while.

the first third of the exam allowed for me to keep my clothes on, for which I was thankful because the air was on in that room and it was frickin' cold in there. My blood pressure was a little high, temperature was a little low (no doubt the room's fault), and all air passageways were clear.

Then, they asked me to strip and put on the little gown. I asked that they kill the cold air pumping into the room. Eventually, it was shut off, but for about ten minutes I waited with no area in the exam room not being in the path of one vent or another, with me in a gown that was not only open in the back, but also made of breathable cotton. That, and my affinity for loose boxer shorts made the shrinkage factor at least a seven (out of ten).

My doctor, in a strange attempt to multi-task, chose to ask me most of the general habits questions in the middle of the more intimate exams. I'm sure it was a distraction technique, but I've never been asked if I wear my seat belt regularly by anyone who's got my balls in their hand.

They drew some blood for cholesterol and diabetes tests (among others), which was a great set of results to sweat out over Thanksgiving. Not for nothing, but if there's one thing I love as much as my family, it's their liberal use of heavy cream and real butter during holiday meals. Not that it's just the holidays that I eat like that. Let's face it, when they tapped my vein, pure hollandaise sauce should've come out.

The last part was the urine sample, and I was free to go home. So, a quick lunch, some clutching a teddy bear and crying over the bad touches, and I was back to the office for a half-day of work.

I did have to fess up to a relapse on smoking, so the doctor gave me a prescription for Chantix, the new miracle cure for smoking. I still need to do some checking to see if my insurance will cover it, but I found another thing to look out for: side effects. Nausea, constipation, gas, vomiting (if all four hit at the same time, that'd be an odd sensation, almost worthy of an exorcism) Insomnia (already suffer from that), strange or unusual dreams (ditto), suicidal thoughts, taste changes, night terrors, etc. Gee, sign me up!

But if the insurance will cover it, I'll give it a whirl. Who knows, it could give me tons of new material. Or, I'd become a suicidal, sleep deprived, gastronomical freak show with a new personality. Fingers crossed.