Health

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Going to the Jerusalem Center requires quite a lot of paperwork and phone calls and money, as I'm sure could be expected for such a trip. One required form was (rather unfortunately) a health release so that I will be allowed to use the gymnasium at the Center. Why I need a doctor to sign off that I can use a treadmill or run around a track, I have no idea. But it was required, and therefore had to be taken care of.

Since I'm not currently in Maryland, where my normal doctor resides, I had to make other arrangements. This meant an appointment with the BYU Student Health Center, and consequently required a physical. Gag me. I've had a variety of experiences with physicals, and I can't remember a single one that has been positive. The doctor most often had the very stereotypical freezing cold hands, and call me crazy but sitting around in a paper bathrobe that you accidentally tore the wrong way is not my idea of a good time. Then there was the year that the doctor did nothing but grill me about my non-active sex life and non-existent alcohol addiction. It was practically a zoo-ful of awkwardness.

Needless to say, there was nothing about this doctor visit that I was looking forward to, because I'm much too old to get a sticker or lollipop, and those are the only good things about a pediatrician's physical. However, I was (semi) pleasantly surprised. The physical involved no paper bathrobes or gowns of any sort, and the worst part was the urine test, which arguably is pretty bad, but still. Much better than it could have been. Beyond that, I did nothing more uncomfortable than bend over so the doctor could inform me that I had curvature in my spine.

It was possibly the least awkward physical ever. Well, and possibly the least accurate. The nurse told me I was five foot two and half, which is a blatant untruth, and that I'm fourteen pounds heavier than I was six months ago, which makes no sense since all my clothes still fit. These measurements were taken with shoes and clothes on, and yet were expected to be accurate. How that works, I'm not sure. But I don't believe them. And I'm slightly offended that she measured me so short. Oh well. At least I know the truth.

And I came away from my physical very grateful that I'm healthy, and that I don't have to spend any more time in the hospital than it takes to get a simple physical. Hopefully I can keep this up until I'm ninety-seven at least. But I'll try not to shoot that high. Maybe eighty-three is a more realistic goal.