It must have been 30 years ago that I went to my doctor when I was undernourished (those were the days!), and the doctor said he didn't know about my husband, but he liked his women with a little more meat on their bones. Say what? Did I need to know that?
Another doctor told me, when I came in with a cold, that I looked like the god of wrath. This was after he got off his couch in the office to see me. He was old and ready to retire. I think he must have been talking about himself!
An optometrist told me I had beautiful corneas. Was that purely from a medical standpoint? Or was he entranced by the depths of my dark brown eyes? Now that's a thought!
Recently, when I saw my family doctor to get a second opinion about the wound on my ankle, she flippantly told me that the surgeon had made the hole and he should fix it. Okaaay.
The foot surgeon told me that God must have blessed me with good looks and intelligence because my feet were terrible. I told him that I would paint my toenails so they would at least look pretty. I liked his compliment, but I bet he says that to all his patients. Sigh!
Then there are the things that I have said or have come close to saying. I think it runs in the family.
My mom was in the hospital one time and the family, including Dad, went to breakfast. Dad asked the waitress if the L on her name tag stood for Love. We fussed at him: Dad, you can't say things like that. But he did and it was fine, because he had reached that certain age when it's okay to embarrass yourself and your family. He was ordering at a restaurant another time when Mom asked him what he was having. He said he didn't know about her, but he was having a good time! Way to go, Dad, I'll have one of those!
I think I consciously crossed that threshold when I was in the hospital.
After surgery and a close call that required the emergency response team, I asked the nurse if she had called the nice looking technician "pumpkin." And I was thinking that I could say that because I was of a certain age and they would just think I was a crazy old woman. She denied it, rightly so, because I had made it up. I then proceeded to call him Pumpkin two more times. He totally ignored me; maybe he was busy trying to save my life, but that was so much fun.
At physical therapy an older woman was very emotional one day and shed a few tears. The therapist comforted her, and she patted his cheek to let him know that he was a nice young man. I haven't reached that stage yet but thought at the time that it would be a nice thing to do. Something to look forward to. Some day.
Again at the doctor's office, I was going to comment that the big boot for my ankle made me feel like Paul Bunyan looking for Babe the Blue Ox, but before the words came out of my mouth I looked at my doctor standing there in his baby blue scrubs and thought, oh oh, that comment may be closer to the truth than I am ready to admit.
There is something about me and doctors that brings out the craziest thoughts. But some things are better left unsaid--at least for now!
A Postscript: You never know what you're gonna get...
I was waiting at the hospital for a five-minute eye procedure, in the chair and ready for laser treatment. Waiting and waiting and waiting some more. It seems the medical staff had told the doctor he was finished for the day and he had left the building. There were visible gasps when they realized they had forgotten his last patient. The doctor returned from across town and was very apologetic and did the easy procedure. He told me he would bring me bring me a present. At my follow-up appointment, he presented me with a Big Box of Chocolates!
It was truly a Forrest Gump moment!
omgosh..how funny. You HAVE had some interesting doctors conversations..lol. "a little meat on your bones"...hahaha....All of these are just sort of weird compliments...If I didn't like Many Man so much, I would say you should have married a doctor! :)
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