Last week I did something unspeakable. Something so unbelievable it’s hard to comprehend, much less write down. I passed out at the dermatologist. Yup, that’s twice now, both times at the most inconsequential, insignificant office visits. The only place more ridiculous to “give way” than the eye doctor is the dermatologist. I wish I could make this stuff up.
I have no idea what came over me. I was in for a routine check up a few weeks back, and he biopsied a mole that didn’t look kosher. It came back “not kosher” and he wanted to remove it entirely. It was a mole the size of the head of a needle and it was in the center of my back. As he started injecting the numbing agent in my back I felt this wave rush to my head and then out of my head, as if all of the blood went south. I said to him “I think I better lay down” and he said “those blue eyes have gone far away” and laid me down.
That’s when the embarrassment set in. Mainly because I had lost all control. But also because this particular doctor has a large staff comprised primarily of very pretty nurses and office managers. All of whom were instructed by the doctor to regularly come in to check on me. I was powerless. Hopeless. Totally embarrassed.
But I lived to tell the story. 30 minutes later he excised the mole, stitched me up (I asked him how much he charges for suit alterations – but he didn’t find that as funny as me passing out) and I walked out with my head hanging low.
Seriously, I wish I could make this up.