I had my first trip to the doctor today in 17 years. Yup, I was 17 when I last visited the doctor for a routine physical to play baseball. Nothing was wrong, but being a father of three, it just seemed like something I should get back into—the responsible thing to do. As I was getting ready this morning, I was laughing at the thought that going to the doctor is kind of like getting ready for a date. I showered and shaved so I was fresh and clean (didn’t know how, err, intimate we were going to get). I was a little nervous, probably because I didn’t quite know what to expect.
When I arrived I forgot my insurance card and had to run back home which didn’t help my blood pressure reading. I waited in the exam room with anticipation, like waiting for a date to ring the doorbell. When she finally knocked and came in, we started with small talk, getting comfortable with each other. Very soon after we were on to more personal subject matter. I’d be lying if I didn’t say my heart jumped a beat when she asked me to jump up on the table. With more than a little relief, the exam was basically “G-rated” as I was healthy with no concerns.
When I left I was laughing at myself again for making such a big deal out of this trip to see the doctor. It’s personal, but it’s not really intimate. It’s funny how things are only weird if you make them that way, and even though I’m 17 years older, there’s still a bit of that awkward teenager in me.