The Annual "Email"


Once a year, I take seriously my diligent responsibility of visiting a friendly-faced doctor with white gloves and some room-temperature metal stirrups. I can’t say that this is ever something I would do by choice, but I refuse to be caught unaware of my current health at any time. In fact, the first time I ever visited a female doctor, I went unconscious and nearly got sick to my stomach upon awakening. But I’ve since overcome my nausea and am generally quite compliant with whatever it is they ask for me to do or talk about.

Now, I’ve always visited the same doctor until I moved to New York. Time was up and a little postcard reminded me that I ought to get my ‘annual.’ So I looked up the only name I could pronounce–Kwan–and headed out to Midtown to meet my new lady. She asked me lots of personal questions, as these doctors tend to do, and I got the feeling she thought I was lying about my history (this happens often & I shouldn’t be surprised…but in NY…you’re dealing with people who fly every which way possible). Taking me to be quite naive for some unknown reason, she graphically explained enough about my personal features and products on the market that I should know about. A little bit stunned and suddenly out of place, I redressed myself and headed back to work.
Later that evening, I decided to send my mother an email detailing the hilarious incident. I repeated, verbatim, the words she spoke to me in a rather crass manner–and how uncomfortable it was to sit through that. Products? Really? Did I really need a tutorial about KY?
A few days later, after I hadn’t heard from my mother, I called to ask if she had gotten my email. “What email?” she asks.
I plow through my sent mail only to find that (yes) I sent this graphic monologue to my now fiance on his gmail account. Probably the worst oversight I’ve had in all of my personal or professional life. I called him immediately and he swore he hadn’t gotten around to reading it (though it had been sitting there almost four days….). Yes, we’re super close, but I prefer some mystery to still exist on this planet.
I just re-read the email today and cried laughing. Oh boy, if only he had known what was waiting for him. What a trooper.

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