Dec 2018 27

I have encountered a lot of strangeness during this holiday season – there was the lady who spit on me and shouted obscenities, for instance – I’ll get to that one, but for now, just to get back into a bit of writing, I present my comedy failure at the X-Ray Clinic today.


So I went for an X-Ray.

Yup, finally decided to get my wonky left knee checked out by my Doctor last week. It doesn’t hurt all the time. Just going up stairs – which I avoid except in the subway stations cause the bottleneck on the escalator is just too much to handle – and it has to ‘crack’ when I’m riding bike before it feels fully functional. Which is probably how I screwed it up in the first place – one too many falls on the streets of Toronto. BTW, wondering if everyone has a dominant side when they fall off their bike? I always go left for some reason. Maybe to avoid the curb. Which is odd to think that falling into moving traffic is a better move than hitting my head on a curb. Ah, the choices we make when considering our best chances for survival.

Oh, you don’t have a dominant ‘falling’ side, because you stay upright on your bike, huh? Well, congratulations.

Anyhow, my Doctor’s theory is I fucked up my patella. He confirmed his hypothesis with some magic move squeezing down on my thigh/knee like a tube of toothpaste and I saw stars it was so painful. Seriously, I must have freaked out everyone in the waiting room cause I howled like Han Solo getting tortured in Cloud City.

So he sends me for an X-Ray. Which I went for today.

I am always amazed at the various personalities (or lack of) that you encounter in the healthcare professions. Personally, I like to joke around a bit. It’s a nervous habit, and also I feel for people who are working in a dark X-Ray clinic day after day.

“Hi. How are you?”

“Take off your pants and put this on.”

All business.

“Okay. Will do.”

So I grab the gown held out for me, enter the change room, and proceed to de-trouser. So there I am barely covered by the threadbare gown, my butt hanging out the back. But I am wearing a lovely new pair of plumb-coloured Calvin Kleins.

I emerge and say to the technician, while spinning around…

“Well, what do you think? Is it me?”

Her response, without any emotion on her face – disgust, amusement, or otherwise…

“Yes. It is still you.”

So, yah. I went for an X-Ray. And she saw right through me.