Me and Barry Bonds

We arrived at the doctor’s office where we are placed in a small room filled with other sick people all trapped and forced to listen to really bad 70’s music redone elevator style. After a few minutes of uncontrollable hacking and coughing, my other roommates voted that I should be taken next if for no other reason than they won’t catch whatever it is I may have. From the waiting room we are escorted to the back where the nurse weighs me and sticks some device in my ear that supposedly tells her my temperature. Personally I think it is all for show but it at least makes you feel like you are making progress. The nurse also attempts to estimate weight with the little sliding thing but they are always off in 50 pound increments. I have to wonder why doctors don’t hire carnival workers for this part. They always seem to guess the women’s weight and age on the midway at the state fair. From this carnival act we are escorted to yet another room this one smaller than the first. I guess it is supposed to make you feel like you are making progress going from one room to another but frankly it makes me feel like I am being segregated from the herd before the lions pounce on the unsuspecting prey at the water hole. After what seems like an eternity the doctor finally arrives and immediately asks how you are doing. That has to be one of the stupidest things ever uttered to begin a conversation. If I felt good I wouldn’t be sitting here wearing some dumb gown that is open in the back on a table covered in paper that makes me feel like a puppy trying to be house broken. Obviously I think I am dying but I can't very well say that. I turned and said, “I’m ok I guess”. Luckily I have brought an interpreter with me and from the corner of the room Trina provides her description of the situation along with her medical opinion. It’s then time for the stethoscope that has been stored in a meat locker for the past month that is stuck to my chest and my back. The cold metal touching my skin takes what breath I have away and then the doctor says “take a big deep breath”. Um yeah that’s what I just did when you stuck that thing against my chest doc. After several of those and a quick look down my throat he begins writing what appears to be the sequel to War and Peace and leaves the room. About 15 minutes later he comes back with the cliff notes in the form of a small note pad filled with prescriptions. I am to go have another chest x-ray then I am to go and fill all of these prescriptions which will provide me with a six course meal three times a day for 10 days. I am allowed to travel from the car to home to bed so unless US Airways builds a terminal from Phoenix International Airport to my bedroom before 5 PM tonight I am not going to San Francisco.
The doctor begins describing the medications and dosage and at that point I totally begin to zone out. I figure there are labels on the bottles and that is good enough for me. Somewhere in the middle of his discussion with Doctor Trina I caught a word that I actually understood. They are putting me on an antibiotic and a steroid. I had to stop them right there. Did he just say steroid? “Doc, I think you should know that I would never knowingly take steroids as it may impact my election into the baseball fan’s hall of fame.” I said. “I am more than willing to accept dosages of flax seed oil caplets and will gladly rub the cream and the clear wherever you think it would be best but in order to preserve plausible deniability I must insist that we not use the word ‘steroid’ when talking about possible treatments.” At that point the room went completely silent and the doctor just stared at my solemn face. Trina immediately jumped in and told the doctor to just ignore me as I was obviously channeling Barry Bonds and in my sickened condition I could not possibly be held accountable for anything I said. The conversation between the two of them continued and we ultimately left the doctor’s office without a referral to a mental health professional which is always my goal whenever I leave a medical facility. So after chest x-rays and an afternoon at the pharmacy I am now home resting comfortable with my bottle of Barry Bonds vitamins. Each of the pills look like the oversized heads of cheating ball players. I get to take two Barry’s per day with a Mark McGwire vitamin before bed and within 10 days I should be all better but I may need to buy a bigger baseball hat and I won’t be able to play left field any more.