Clean at last, clean at last,

15 days ago I went in for a physical. No particular reason, I guess I figured if I can't find a girl to touch my nuts maybe I can get a doctor to. Even if it is for medical reasons. That actually wasn't the reason. I guess I felt like I haven't been to a doctor in 6 years, and there is no time like the present to make sure shit is still running properly. 

So I go to the doctor, not expecting anything to be wrong. I'm not sick, well, physically atleast.  But the second I get in there I start questioning things. 

What if they do find something?!?!

Well the way my mind works is that I can talk myself into a green sky if you give me enough time. And the good people of Keizer gave me more then enough time. I sat in the little room, with no magazine to read for a good 15 minutes. Lets just say by the time the doctor got into the room I was convinced he was going to find signs of cervical cancer.

What came next can only be described as a cross between  a terrible first date and police interrogation.

Some of the early highlights:

Doctor: so what brings you here today?

Me: uh, I guess it's been 6 years or so since I've been in for a physical. I guess I'm just here to make sure I'm runnin right.

Doctor : (stares at me blankly) ok. So, do you smoke?

Me: Uh, cigerettes? No.

Doctor: Pot?

Me: I have 

Doctor: Well smoking a joint is the equivalent of smoking a pack of cigarettes. 

Me: (now I feel like Ron Burgendy, "I don't believe you." but I kept my mouth shut) Oh, thats wild.

Fast forward a minute...

Doctor: so are you sexually active?

Me: Uh, kinda? 

Doctor: You're 23. Have you ever been tested?

Me: No...

Doctor: well you need to be. I can have the arranged for today.

Tested? Uh, like for Aids? ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME!??!?! So I agreed. I mean what do I have to afraid of? There are Catholic priests who have had more sex with women then I have.  But he was right, it is a good thing to know. So I agreed to it, and go get my blood drawn, and pissed in the cup. Not a big deal.

Nope, not a big deal at all. Well it wasn't a big deal, until these medical bastards took 15 f***in days to get my results back to me. Lets break it down. If after 15 minutes I had talked into myself into the possibilities of cervical cancer (remember I have no vagina), think about what 15 days can do. 

By the 15th day I was sitting in my cubical thinking about how I was going to tell my mom I have aids. Thinking about how I was going to tell my dad. Or even the scary one, my ex girlfriend.  

By the 15th day, I was making my peace with God, and preparing my bucket list.

By the 15th day, I was convinced it was done for me.

Note: This is what a good imagination brings. Paranoia. It's not good for relationships, and it's sure as shit not good for medical tests. So parents, be careful when you wish your kids grow up with good imaginations.

So tired of waiting for these bastards to get back to me, I called them. Even after that I still had to wait two more hours for them to get back at me. Finally, while I was sitting in my cubical before lunch a strange number calls me. I rush to the break room, where I was informed that I was clean...well all but HIV. I still had to come in to get those results.

I got there as soon as I hung up the phone. 

I rushed to Keizer and immediately ran up to the dude behind the desk, and handed him my card. 

Me: I'm here to get results...uh, for a test.

Dude behind the desk : ok (typing in my shit) uh...( staring very intensly at the computer) uh...(I'm now officially shitting my pants) hold on a second. I'm not sure what to do. 

Me: HUH!? 

Dude gets up and goes into the back. A few moments later a smiling lady comes from the back and tells me to come with her. I got more knots in my stomach then in a hippies hair. The lady sensing my un easiness quickly takes me to her computer which gave me the verdict...clean. CLEAN MOTHER F***ER! I'M CLEAN! 

I smiled. Thanked her for the good news then promptly went home and changed my underwear.

In hindsight I don't know why I was freaking out. Cartoon characters get more ass then me. I guess thats why it's 20/20. I need to learn to pump my breaks about shit and take a deep breath. I let myself get too freaked out about things. It'll probably be the death of me.

Shoot, maybe I should start smoking weed regularly. That seems to calm people down. Reference Snoop Doggy Dog. Oops, sorry scratch that, the good Doctor would not be ok with that. Apparently it's worse then a pack of cigarettes.

And Cigarettes kill.