D. None of the Above: Imagining medical routines that are anything but...

D. None of the Above: Imagining medical routines that are anything but for the rest of us

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By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

A few years ago, a friend of mine called the night before a major operation.

I could tell he was nervous. His usual, unflappable voice was weaker and unsteady, as if he weren’t sure how things would go and was reaching out for encouragement.

“There’s pretty much nothing you can do at this point,” I said. “You really don’t need to be sharp or focused or even attentive tomorrow. You better hope the doctor is getting plenty of rest and is at his best.”

“That’s true,” he laughed. “Maybe I should send over a good dinner or encourage him to go to bed early tonight.”

Doctors, like so many other people in other professions, deal with activities and routines that are unimaginable for the rest of us.

As a child, I watched my father slowly and carefully remove glass from the eyes of a construction worker who had been in an accident. I also sat in horror as he ate a steak just hours after being in surgery for most of the day to reconstruct the eye of a local patient who had suffered extensive trauma.

The medical world’s ability to get past the “ick” factor is pretty incredible. These professionals, on whom we rely for our overall health and for the health of our specific organs and systems, improve and extend our lives, offering the best of modern medicine to counteract the effect of bad habits, hidden genetic problems that can complicate and threaten our lives, and pathogens that cause damage and destruction.

Recently, I visited a urologist. If you’ve been reading this column long enough, you might recall that I’ve had kidney stones. These are exceptionally unpleasant, causing pain and vomiting, among other discomforts.

Long ago, I shuffled into an emergency room, bent over double from the pain. After I told the admitting nurse what was wrong, she didn’t even bother with paperwork or with taking my blood pressure. She immediately took me to a room, where another nurse almost instantly provided a painkiller. I am still grateful to them years later.

So, you see, I feel the need to monitor the health of this system to reduce the risk of future such episodes.

This year, I was meeting with a new urologist. I tried not to think about the parts that are unpleasant but that are much less problematic than a kidney stone.

He knocked politely on the door, as if he might have been delivering a dish of salmon with steamed vegetables and couscous.

Who is it? I was tempted to ask in a falsetto voice. What difference did it make? Anyone who knocked was coming in regardless of what I said.

He washed his hands – thankfully – sat down and asked me to tell him about myself.

“My health history?” I wondered.

“No, I mean, are you married, do you have kids, what do you do for a living?”

Well, I write about weird meetings like this. But enough about me, how do you do what you do? I wondered. No, I didn’t say that. I smiled and offered the 20 second tour of my life. 

We even chatted about the Yankees losing Juan Soto to the Mets. Would they be better or worse this year?

After he asked me about my health history, he told me to lower my pants and underwear and put my elbows on the examining table.

“You’re going to feel some pressure as I examine your prostate,” he said.

I thought of my dog, whose head is often in my lap or near my face when they probe parts of his body he’d just as soon no human ever touched. He makes a face I imagine was similar to mine at that moment. Shocked expressions transcend species.

Afterwards, the urologist smiled at me, gave me a quick assessment and told me he wished me and the Yankees well this year.

Later, I tried to imagine sitting at a meal with him, chatting in an airport waiting room, or standing outside the backstop of a softball field as we waited for the chance to hit.

I couldn’t do it. Routine as his work might be for him and necessary as it might be for me, I struggle to disconnect from an exam that is a routine part of his work.

But, hey, I’m not anticipating that either of us will call the other on our birthdays this year. I’m glad he’s there, doing his thing and hope not to need additional services.

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