A Veritable Eyesore

A Visit to the Doctor

"Yes, that's right," I told the doctor. "She lost her balance and fell onto my leg."

He stared at me with an astonished look, his sharp blue eyes boring into me, his bushy, white brows raised in alarm, as if such a thing were not only improper to suggest, but altogether impossible. Given his old age, I wasn't sure if he was hard of hearing, but his lively, imperious gaze seemed to suggest otherwise.

"A fat woman?" he barked, his expression deepening in perplexity.

"Yes...As I said, she was on the heavier side."

"And she fell on you?"

"Yes, well, technically, she tripped and then fell on me, but yes: she fell on me."

"I don't think I follow," he said, blinking and turning his head sideways.

I redoubled my efforts and tried to clarify.

"She was standing next to me when the subway stopped without warning. It happened very suddenly, but somebody must've pulled the emergency brake because it sent us both flying over."

"I see," the doctor said, nodding his head but still retaining a degree of skepticism. "I'm going to move your leg in a series of positions. I want you to tell me if you feel any pain."

"Sure," I replied.

I leaned back on the examination table and he proceeded. His hands were bony and firm, his movements deft. Although the meaning of each position was a mystery to me, I felt flattered to be worked upon with such attention, as if I were a machine of great complexity. 

What reason, I wondered, did he have not to believe me?

"Ah," I said, wincing, a sharp pain shooting up my leg. "There, right there."

"There?" he asked, repeating the movement.

"Yes! There."

"And how about there?" he asked, modifying the position.

"No, nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing."

"Hm."

He lowered my leg, turned around, and began scribbling on a notepad. I sat up and straightened my shirt. For an old man, he was surprisingly sprite.

"Here," he said, ripping a sheet off from his pad. "This is a prescription for Ibuprofen. Prescription strength. Much, much stronger than your regular Advil. Make sure to take it with food once a day. Other than that, RICE: Rest, Ice, Compress, and Elevate. That should be enough for now. I'll have Tammy schedule a follow-up appointment in two weeks."

I nodded attentively, relieved to hear that there was a treatment for my pain. But with that mixture of gratitude and pride, which comes from hearing one's body is, in fact, in working condition, I forgot to ask even the most basic questions. What was his diagnosis? Was there a tear? Why couldn't I just take Advil? But you know how doctors can be—always in a rush, going from one patient to the next like speed dating. Who was I to take up his precious time?

It wasn't until I was in the elevator that I thought his manners to be overly brusque.