It's Uncomfortable Topic Time!

Gentlemen callers may want to skip this one. Ladies, hell... you might want to skip this one, too, especially if you embarrass easily.

So. I went to the doctor this week. You know which one, ladies. The doctor. I finally made the sane decision to find a doctor here instead of flying back to Michigan, but apparently every woman in the DC area made appointments, too.

Searching for a new doctor is like playing Russian Roulette with your bajingo (thanks, Elliot). You need to find someone who doesn't suck, but also someone with whom you are comfortable. Because let's face it: you place yourself, pretty much naked, in a very uncomfortable situation. And I found myself searching for a doctor by determining which ones would take my insurance and then calling. Sounds reasonable.

I couldn't get into a doctor in DC for TWO MONTHS, but I could see someone in Falls Church, VA in three days. What the hell is this about? Is this a widespread problem? When did it become so difficult to see the doctor? I blame the insurance companies. But right, Falls Church. Virginia.

I don't have a car. I walk and I take the metro. I don't take the bus (unless it's to Georgetown when all of the students are gone for Christmas break. Because, let's face it: G-town students aren't the most pleasant) because it takes forever. The doctor's office was far from the closest metro station. Merrick, my angel, was going to take me until she remembered that she was going out of town the night before, and instead lent me her car. A Mitsubishi Montero, year: old. It's huge. So I took the day off - yay for sick leave - and made my way to the appointment.

(First though, an aside: When we are led to the examination room to undress, why do we arrange our clothes so that certain "undergarments" are hidden from view? Why do we do this, ladies? Why do we think that, on his/her waltz into the room, our doctor's glance at our underwear, casually resting atop our *gasp* brassiere, is somehow going to be more embarrassing than what we are going to have to voluntarily present momentarily? It's madness! And yet, we still do it. I am sure that I am not alone in this trickery.)

My appointment was with a nurse practitioner, which was fine by me. Her name?

Muffi.

I am so not kidding. Why? Why would you not use your given name (in her case, Margaret) in this line of work? WHY?

Well, that was really the punchline - and point - of this entire post. No worries -- I'm not going to go into what happened next. The most important thing is that she was a great NP and I would recommend her to anyone.

Even though her name makes me giggle like an idiot.