Remember when I told y’all about how I was performing self-surgery on myself? Well, it’s still been going on all this time. I finally got around to going to the doctor today to give a professional a shot. Mostly because starting January 1st I’ll be on the high-deductible health insurance plan (which as near as I can tell, will be functionally identical to not having insurance at all…). So it was time to go to the doctor.
This guy, though, was a real comedian.
After he numbed half my mouth he said, “Hey, wanna hear a doctor joke?”
“OK,” I thought. I tried to say it as well, but half my mouth was numb, so I’m not exactly sure what I said.
“So a man and a woman meet in a bar,” he said. “They start flirting with each other, and they’re really hitting it off. They discover that they’re both doctors, so they have a lot in common. They end up going back to the woman’s apartment, where they sleep together. He ends up staying the night at her apartment.”
“Is this really an appropriate joke for a doctor to be telling a patient?” I think. I wasn’t going to stop him though, mostly because there were at least 6 fingers and a knife inside my half-numb mouth. It wasn’t really a speaking opportunity.
“In the morning,” he continues, “after they wake up, the woman goes straight in to the bathroom and begins washing her hands. She just keeps washing and washing and washing. She washes her hands for a full 10 minutes before coming back into the bedroom. ‘I know what kind of doctor you are,’ he said. ‘You’re a surgeon. Only a surgeon would wash their hands for 10 minutes like that.’ ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I know what kind of doctor you are too. You must be an anesthesiologist, because last night I didn’t feel a thing.'”
I really wanted to laugh after that punch line. Not so much because the joke was funny, but more because the doctor thought that was an appropriate thing to say while cutting part of my face off.
After the surgery was over, he dangled the pea-sized part of me that he had just cut off in front of my face for me to admire.
While he did this, his female assistant said,”Jeez, that’s hot.”
“Yes?” said the doctor.
“The light. It’s a real heat lamp,” she said, motioning towards a small spotlight they’d used during the surgery.
“Oh, I thought you meant the doctor!” he said.
Anyway, in case you’re wondering, the surgery went well, although I still can’t laugh or else I’ll rip the stitches out. Or eat.