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Not my favorite way to spend a Monday morning.
It was definitely not my favorite way to spend by Birthday, but here we were…at the doctor’s office. As if that wasn’t bad enough, this was the New Patient visit at a new office, thanks to a change in medical insurance. You know the routine: cramped into a too small chair with no elbow room, struggling to hold a clipboard in my left hand while using a golf pencil to fill out 3 pages of medical history questions about myself, my parents, their parents…. I digress.
I did my best to recall my past surgeries, even if I didn’t get the years exactly right. No smoking. Occasional alcohol consumption. More caffeinated soda than I wanted to admit, but at least it was diet. Yes to Type 2 diabetes, No to everything else. Family history of this and that. Finally, last page.
“Mr. Anderson ?!?” a voice called out. Shit…didn’t finish. I fumbled to gather my things together and stood.
“Hi, Mr. Anderson… I’m Mel.”
My eyes made their way from the jumble of stuff in my hands to a pair of grey cross trainers, and blue scrub pants. When I finally made eye contact, my brain just stopped. Mel, it turns out, was the real-life, strawberry blonde embodiment of Heloise Nerz. “Hello, Nurse….”, I managed.
“Mel,” she said with a firm nod. I could tell she was smiling beneath her mask, but she was also intent on not being called “Nurse.”
“Hello, Mel.”
I gladly followed her through a series of turns through the medical office hallway. Her toned bottom made the blue scrubs look even better. She showed me the room we would be in so that I could put my stuff down before the embarrassing part—"Let’s have you hop on the scale.”
She checked my height (6’ even), and then I stood on the scale. I took a deep breath and held it, trying my best to look, well…less big. Like she wasn’t going to see the truth any moment… “324 pounds” she said, and I exhaled. There was no denying it now. She knew I was a big boy.
I took a seat I the chair beside the nurses station in the exam room. I propped my right elbow up on the table in preparation for the tests to come. Mel took the rolling stool in front of me and rolled over.
“Hi,” she said again. “I’m Mel. I’m Doctor Otto’s assistant. How are you today?”
Doing better now, said the voice inside my head. Don’t say that! I countered internally. “I’m good. How are you?”
Mel had longer strawberry blonde hair. It was down for the time being, but she wore a salmon scrunchie on her right arm if she needed to put it up for any reason. She wore pink medical mask that hid her smile, but her cheeks and eyes promised that it was as both kind and beautiful. I caught myself staring into her grey eyes when words broke the silence. “I’m fine, thank you.”
You sure are… I thought. Dammit, Charlie. Get control of your thoughts!
“And is it okay if I call you Charlie?” I nodded. “Just to make things clear, I’m a Certified Nurse Practitioner. I worked really hard for those extra letters—I want you to know that I’m more than a nurse, more than a medical assistant. But I’m not a doctor, and my last name is hard to pronounce. So, how about you just call me Mel? Sound good? We’re going to take some vitals to get started, then we’ll look over that paperwork.” “Whatever you say, Mel.” I replied. She looked at me with a little smirk. I got the distinct feeling that Mel liked to be in control, at least in this environment, and I was fine with that.
Pulse Ox on my left forefinger, blood pressure cuff on my right arm. Stethoscope on my arm listening to the pulse. I stole a momentary glance at her tight white shirt. I’m usually a pretty good guess, but I
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