Hey, fellas, remember what it was like to go get your physical? Trying out for the school basketball team? Football team? We-heh-heh-ell! You're going to have to go see Doctor Busyfingers! The first time, we already kinda knew, sorta, what to expect. The guys who had already undergone a physical made sure that you were sweating bullets long before you walked into the doctor's office. Turn your head and cough? And he's grabbing what? Where? And why do you say that I'll learn to hate the sound of a rubber glove snapping? You're just trying to scare me, aren't you? Yep, you bet. Just trying to scare you...wink, wink.

     Well, I haven't had a physical for a long, long time. Although we never really forget what it was like, perhaps over time, we diminish the shock, the pure embarassment (em-bare-a**-ment) of having your britches down around your ankles, and there is no toilet and no woman in the room. Anyway, at the urging of my mother (Yes, Mother! Yes, Mother!), I relented and decided to begin annual check-ups, as I am now in my mid forties, and we all really should keep up with our health.

     But, damn! Yesterday, it all came back like a tsunami, rolling over me with all the power of a doctor's frickin' finger! We start out with a pleasant chat, he's getting to know my background, my lineage, my family health history. And all the while, I'm deluding myself into thinking that perhaps the ol' head-turned-coughing is a thing of the past. You know; Medicine has come a long way since I was in high school, maybe they've found a less barbaric way to see if my testes bounce when I cough. Checking for hernia? What have my boys got to do with a hernia? But, as some of you could no doubt have told me, they sure as hell do it the same old way. No medical advancements here! I mean, gee ****! We can repair a shoulder or a knee without slicing it wide open. We can shoot some cortizone into a joint so an athlete can play for the rest of the season, so why do you have to grab my thingies to see if I have a hernia?

     It was when the doc said, "You're going to have to drop your pants, underwear and all", that said tsunami knocked me down. Man, was I disappointed in medical science! But once that was over and done with, I just reminded myself that this was the smart and responsible thing to do at my age. Just endure what surely seems like being violated, and the trustworthy medical professional will know what you and he need to know. I began to relax, probably visibly to the doctor. A calm took over me, and I felt good knowing that it would be a year before I have to go through this again. And that's when I heard the rubber glove snap.