Remember when you used to go to the doctor to get your “summer physical”? At the time I didn’t know what it was for, but knew that without getting one, I wasn’t permitted to go to camp. Instead, we’d suck it up, go to the doctor, find out which “shots” we needed to get, and move on. Life was rough as a kid.
Well, now that adulthood has set in, I can relate in a whole different way.
I haven’t gotten an actual “physical” in a while — pushing eight months or so — and I’m afraid to go for one now. Most importantly, it’s the cholesterol number I’m afraid of, but also a little apprehensive about discovering any number of nonsense issues he might uncover in a “routine physical.”
Let me put it in different terms. Whenever the “check engine” light goes on in my car, I curse (out loud) because I know that WHATEVER is the problem, it’s going to cost me. The last time I brought my car into the shop for a broken tail light, I wound up with a $770 bill for a leak in the intake valve, a realignment of the wheels and a something-or-other that I can’t even a little bit remember.
What if that happens at my doctor this month? I like my valves the way they are — and don’t need to discover any leaks just yet.