Nice Shorts

 

  Just after the first of the year a twentysomething, uh, friend noticed a problem.  Performing a Lance Armstrong inspired inspection while showering he noticed a bit of topography that had not previously been there.  Uh, oh.  Oh well, probably nothing.

  Was something and it got bigger over the course of the following few months.  “Jeesh, better look into this” he thought.  “But how?” he wondered being a long way from last doctor visit and starting to get a bit nervous. 

  Tough not to think of stuff like that once your mind wraps around it.  “I don’t give a shit if I never win the Tour de France” he thought.  “But I know I don’t want my olive skewered or whatever else treatment might involve.”  Thoughts of excision came soon to his mind.  Dirt nap next.

  After calling a few friends he found himself at a clinic about which he’d been told by one who’d used it to procure allergy medicine.  “I got a lump on my leg” was all that he’d given when making the appointment.  “Right or left?”  “right”.

  Nurse guided him back to a room where he sat in wait upon one of those weird uncomfortable tables.  Door opened after a few minutes and in walked an attractive woman approximately five years his senior.  “Hi, I’m Dr. Anniston, what seems to be the problem?”

  Friend isn’t shy, but for a moment lost track of his thoughts.   “Problem with your left leg?” Doc asked.  “Not exactly.”  “Not exactly?”  Sigh.  “I noticed something in the shower a few months ago and it’s only gotten bigger”. 

  “Oh I see.  Right one I take it then?”  “Ya.”  “OK, stand up, drop your pants, and we’ll have a look.”  His attention lapsed again for a split second as he recalled the old bit regarding the wisdom of leaving home in less than perfect underwear.

  She pulled up a stool sat down and waited for clothes to hit the floor.  “Nice shorts”.  Palpated left then right then each again.  After a few moments of this she said “you’re probably ok, but we had better have an ultrasound.  Nice to meet you and we’ll be in touch with the results.”

  The procedure was done a few days later.  Was much less embarrassing.  Pants only part way down, towel covering all but the one orb.  Nonchalant technician rubbed the thing with warm gel and then gently passed a wand all around it while peering into a screen.  Didn’t say much except at the end to proffer tissue and to expect a call.

  Later that afternoon, it came: “Hi, this is Dr. Anniston.  Would you like to meet me later today?  I’m working late.”  “Uh sure, at the clinic?”  “No, 1323 Montana Santa Monica, R and D.  8:00 PM, ok?”  “Uhm OK”.  That had all transpired so quickly and he’d been taken so aback that he didn’t ask any questions.  He was terrified.  “R and D, that can’t be good” he thought.  On the drive over he debated whether or not to call friends or folks.  Decided against it. 

  Everything was ablur and it was too dark to read addresses anyway.  He parked the car in a spot he knew had to be close and made his way.  Heart racing three times his resting pulse, he almost got hit in a cross walk. 

  Found the place and went in.  There were lots of people.  It was a bar*.  Doc walks up, big smile, hot pink low cut wrap around dress.  “Call me Andrea and let’s have some drinks.  “You’re fine and I thought it’d be fun to celebrate!”

*http://www.hillstone.com/#/restaurants/cafeRandD/

**coincidentally, “friend” did some design work for men’s grooming products company Axe some of which are depicted in advertisement below.

    

 

    

 

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