(Serious medical issues are not funny, BUT, I find it helps me to find the humor wherever I can:-)
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As I drive up to my local bank branch I notice there’s a whole bunch of people lined up at the ATM machines inside.
As soon as I walk inside, a few of the people in line immediately walk towards the door and quickly leave. A moment later a few more make a hasty retreat to the door. What’s going on?…..
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Okay, I better back up a bit to the previous week…..
I am about to pass the 70 mile marker on my highway of life, and as one might assume, I have a few medical issues to deal with. Well okay, more than a few.
I had recently been to my GP doctor and while I was there he determined that I needed a few ultrasounds to see what is causing some swelling in my lower legs.
A few days later I received a call from a local healthcare lab telling me they have set up appointments for the scans.
The next day, I get a call from a cardiologist whom I have never heard of before. In fact, for all my many ailments, this is the first heart doctor I have ever had. Hmmm… why is he calling me?
He asks me a whole battery of questions, such as my weight (high), my overall health (well, I’m still on the right side of the grass, Does that count?) and whether or not I have ever smoked (Funny, that reminded of the old joke where the girl asks the guy if he smokes after sex, and he replies, “I don’t know, I’ve never looked”) I decided this was not the time for jokes and admitted that I used to smoke but quit 25 years ago.
After the interrogation, he said he would be setting up more tests including an EKG, Echocardiogram, a stress test and also have me wear a Holter heart monitor for three days. Yikes, I had no idea what he was thinking, but it didn’t sound good.
Most of my medical tests don’t happen right away. It is usually a few weeks before I am scheduled to go in for what I now call the “inspections, detections, injections and corrections”.
Not this time. I received a call the very next day from the cardiologist's assistant to set up the bank of tests he wanted me to take. Now I’m not a fatalist, but when I heard they wanted me to come in the next day, I’m thinking either I’m getting the royal treatment, or they know something that I don’t!
Next day at the testing facility, I’m wearing one of those fashionable paper thin light blue medical gowns with the shoestring length strap that only comes in one way which I call the “This don’t shut and I see your butt” size.
Next I’m lying on my side as a gorilla of a man is foundling my man boobs and rubbing lubricant all over my chest. Oh great, he’s copping a feel.
Gorilla man is now moving some sort of magic wand around my chest as I hear the sound of squish-pa, squish-pa, squish-pa, squish-pa letting me know that I do in fact have a working heart.
After a thorough molesting, I am told to get on the treadmill. Maybe you picked up on my comment about my man boobs, that exercise is not exactly my forte.
Gorilla man passes me over to his assistant who is in charge of the treadmill part of today’s testing. He starts the machine up and fiddles around with something on his computer screen. Is he paying attention, or answering his emails I wonder? He tells me we can stop anytime that I’m not feeling comfortable. Well you could have told me that ten minutes ago when your partner was working me over!
If I wanted to quit, all I had to do was just say so, and he would push a button on the computer to shut the treadmill off.
So I’m walking along at a comfortable pace and feeling fine so far. Then he lets me know he’s going to raise the slope a bit. I guess raising it “a bit” means going from a leisurely walk on the beach, to climbing up Mount Everest, because as soon as he raised the slope, the machine sped up. Now I’m running like someone is chasing me to collect a gambling debt. I’m leaning forward with my head down to keep up with the slope and avoid falling on my face, and getting tired, really really tired.
Huff, puff, huff, puff, okay there dungeon master, that’s enough! As he pushed the button, I forgot the golden rule of treadmills, NEVER LET GO OF THE HANDRAILS WHILE IT IS STILL IN MOTION!
As soon as I loosened my grip, I immediately went flying backwards. I’m sure I can’t be the only person this has ever happened to, but they should have at least have some soft mattresses to break my fall, but nooooo!
I get up, dust myself off and sit on the examination table as Gorilla Man attaches a bunch of colored wires to my chest with sticky tabs and hangs a Holter heart monitor around my neck. I walk out of the office looking like I’m smuggling a package of cheese slices under my shirt.
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Meanwhile, back to the bank….
Oh yes, I was telling you about the bank….
If you recall, there was that line of people waiting to use the ATM machines. One lady in line looks at me and I see a very odd, almost shocking look come across her face. I checked to make sure I was wearing pants, and fortunately, yes I was. I wish I could say that this was always the case.
Then a man in line looks at me and dashes out the door. What the heck is going on? I look outside and I see the man is now waving his arms in the air, talking on his phone and pointing in my general direction. All of a sudden, more folks dash right past me and run outside. Okay, this is getting scary!
I figured I better join them and ran out the bank door and moved over to where they had all gathered away from the bank. As soon as I joined them, the whole group all moved as far away from me as possible, and now I’m hearing sirens heading towards our general direction.
Was someone trying to rob the bank?
Next thing I know, I’m on my knees with my hands clasped behind my head as two burly police officers point their guns at me and start yelling, but I’m so scared and confused, I don’t know what they're saying. My heart is pounding so fast, it feels like it's going to come right out of my chest!
Both cops seem to be screaming something different at the same time, and I have no idea what they want. Finally, I hear “If you make one move towards the bomb, we’ll shoot. DO NOT MOVE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“Bomb? What bomb? I don’t know anything about a bomb!”
“In your shirt! We can see the wires and the bulge of explosives”
Looking down at the neck of my shirt I said, “Officers, the wires and the bulge in my shirt is a Holter monitor. It monitors my heart rate and I can tell you right now, it's going off the charts.”
In the end, they let me go. Now how do I explain this to my cardiologist?
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This story is 100% true – except for the parts I completely made up. I hope you enjoyed it.
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Copyright 2024 Kenneth Lane Smith
All Rights Reserved
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