Speaking as a member of the “I’m Had People Poking Around In My Bid’ness More Times Than I Care to Count” club, I’m really fairly nonchalant about going to the doctor and pulling my trousers down. As this is a blog read by other people who have been subjected to multiple cooter-pokings as well, I thought I would share my little dose of medical humor for the day.
I’ll be frank. I’ve had an itchy bum.
While there is little stigma about going to the doctor due to troubles with your ladyplace, there is a certain embarrassment factor about scheduling an appointment with a physician for back passage difficulties. This is silly, of course, as they’re sort of next door neighbours.
Ever since confessing this to Mr. Devil Duck several days ago, I have had to endure some gentle grief from him in the form of little songs about my condition (most notably, “The Itchy Arse Blues”) which is invariably funny to others. But as my discomfort worsened, he encouraged me to head to the GP’s office just to make sure it wasn’t something unpleasant. As we all know ANY itching below the waist, is unpleasant, but some has to be treated while others have to be politely ignored until they decide to piss off.
As someone who has formerly been un-embarassable in the presence of doctors, walking into the surgery this morning, I was fighting off the insane, juvenile urge to laugh, imagining myself going in to see my GP and get the words, “Well, doc, I’ve got an itchy ass,” out of my mouth without having an embolism of some sort.
My doctor helped matters less by calling it an “itchy bottom” which, for some reason, made me have to bite the inside of my cheeks (no, the other cheeks) to keep a childish smirk from creeping onto my face. It turned out to be garden variety dermititis (I'm like, "couldn't I just have it on my hands or arms like everyone else? Does it HAVE to be on my ass?") but with every mention of the words "itchy bottom", I got closer and closer to melt-down.
I really am a very simple creature.
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4 comments:
My God, I would have died trying not to laugh at "itchy bottom." It's like you're 2 years old and he/she's humoring you. I might have been able to deal with "itchy buttocks," but "itchy bottom?" The inside of my cheeks would be BLEEDING from biting so hard.
He was a very nice, quiet sort of Asian guy, my GP, so probably even saying "Itchy bum" would have made him blush most ferociously. I probably would have felt more at ease if he had just gone, "Itchy arse, hm? Bummer."
I love the way GPs use childish language whenever you go and see them. Something about infantilising the patient? So what did he give you for the itchy bum?
Actually, hydrocortazone cream. Cleared it right up. No more itchy bum for me!
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