I don’t know what it is, but apparently there is something about me that just SCREAMS for people to share their deep, dark secretsr with me. Their personal kinks, scary hijinks, and anything else that can’t be contained behind a filter. You know the filter I’m talking about. The one that slams down on a thought and tells your subconcious that no one else wants to know whatever it is that you want to share …. I apparently have a gift that nullifies this filter. So people tell me things.
Like my last trip to the doctor.
I came down with some kind of bug, and I decided that the best option was to go on to the urgent care clinic on my lunch hour instead of waiting until I had a day off to see my doctor. I waited the requisite 45 minutes to be seen into the back, and then I waited a little while longer, trying desperately to keep my eyes open and my lungs from jumping out of my chest. And finally, the doctor walks in. No, she didn’t walk in. She swept in. With a vengence.
She looked like somebody’s grandma. She probably is somebody’s grandma. And before I knew it — before I could raise the shields, this little old lady stood nose to shoulder with me and started talking.
“They were talking about that book on Dr. Drew last night. You know the one. About that millionaire who takes that sweet young girl and grooms her into his sex slave. YES!He groomed her, he taught her and it had all kinds of sex and sado-masochism and I just don’t know why anyone would want to read a book like that? I mean, would YOU want a read a book like that? That man, he treated her just like a pedophile treats children. He groomed her into exactly what he wanted her to be, and she just couldn’t help it. She was just so innocent, and he hurt her. And Dr. Drew doesn’t think its a good book. And I don’t either. I mean, I don’t want to read anything about whips and chains and gags. Do you?”
And mercifully, she paused for a breath. Cause I’m sure she didn’t breathe at all during the whole tangent about “the book.” I blinked slowly at her, pulled back, and croaked, “well, I think that what consenting adults do is their own business, and that as adults, people can read whatever they like, and if you don’t like it, don’t read it. The freedom to choose is one of the perks to living in America, but I’m running late and my lunch hour is over, so could you maybe take a look at me and see what’s wrong with me?”
BAM! She snapped into professional mode, stood back and shook her head. “So, dearie, what are we seeing you for?”
Weirdest. Doctor. Visit. Ever.
Originally published April 14, 2012