Growling as I fished for the plastic covered outfit in the back seat, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
It was all Armageddon’s fault (my protective office manager).
She thought it was a great idea for me to be featured on a 15 minute “Ask the Doc” show.
Yeah, right, I thought to myself as I lugged clothes, shoes and makeup to the TV station
A gushy, preppy, made-up, hair-styled woman appeared at the front desk as I was announced.
“Oooh, Doctor Curmudgeon,” she squealed! “You’re here?”
Cleverly, I countered with, “Of course, I’m here. You seem to have an up note in your voice as if this is a question.”
“Oh, my,” she giggled.
Her gaze traveled to my old running shoes, up my sweat pants, up to my “I Wait for the Chicago Cubs” T shirt and lingered on my sweaty face and tousled hair.
With relief, she smiled as she gazed at the clothes slung over my shoulder and the shoe and make up bag clutched in my hand
I was powdered, coughing as the cloud covered my face, miked up, seated, cues and hand and light signals discussed several times (As if I were an idiot, I grumbled to myself, knowing that Armageddon was watching and recording)
It was my turn on this show that touted itself as having experts appear so a studio audience could have their knowledge increased and ask the questions that concerned them
Soon, the show was on.
Another cute preppy thing swished into the audience in her stilettos, glanced at her cards, and stopped in front of someone. Turning toward the camera, she smiled and said, “This is Joan and she has a question.”
Standing up, Joan queried, “What do you think of raspberry Ketones?”
“I don’t…next question.”
Fumbling with her cards, the host walked rapidly to someone else. “Here’s a wonderful question for you, Doctor. Go ahead George.”
George rose and proclaimed, “Listen, I don’t eat anything and I can’t lose weight. I only weigh 250 pounds and my doctor said I’m obese because I’m 5’6″. He is rude to say that to me.”
“George,” I bellowed. “First of all. You don’t have a question. Secondly, I don’t believe that you don’t eat anything. Thirdly, your doctor was not rude. Obesity is a medical diagnosis.”
I think the host became red faced under her makeup, as she hurried to the front row, stopping in front of an attractive fortyish woman. “Meg has a great question for you, Doctor.’
Shoving the microphone into the woman’s face, she continued, “Go on, Meg. Your question is important for us all.”
“How often should I do colonic cleansing at the Wellness Center?”
There were so many things I wanted to say.
But I thought of Armageddon and what she might say on Monday.
So I simply said, “Never.”
(DISCLAIMER: Or whatever the heck I should note here. Many of Doctor Curmudgeon’s® columns are products of creative or poetic license. She may not actually have the exact experience she describes. She is a humorist or a pundit under her curmudgeonly name. These Curmudgeonly musings are done to expose things, to make a point, to rant She does not write here as a journalist.
Just in case….these were not the actual questions and actual people she encountered. But this is a sample of questions often asked of her during office encounters, at social events, on planes, trains and buses
Enough said…I hope)
Doctor Curmudgeon is Diane Batshaw Eisman MD, FAAFP, a Family Physician, writer, voiceover artist, and medical educator. It was in the Neolithic Era that the doctor became renowned for expertise in Trephination. After so much time in practice, Doctor Curmudgeon is now cranky and has rightfully earned the honorific of “Curmudgeon.”
Doctor Curmudgeon has no idea of what will appear in this space. It depends on the Good Doctor’s mood and whatever shamans and doctors are channeled at the moment.
As a curmudgeon, I may stray from what I observe happening in medicine and slink into other areas. But that is the prerogative of a Curmudgeon