Hilarious

June 5, 2017

I’ve been told a lot of things by a lot of doctors.

“You’re too young to be having all of these problems.”
“You’ve been through so much already; I’ll do my best to help you.”
“You’re probably dying.” (I’m paraphrasing that last one.)

But I think my favorite thing a doctor has ever said to me happened very recently.

I had just been in the emergency room twice in one three-day period, one for a possible stroke and the other for a potential pulmonary embolism. So, an average weekend. 

On my second time in the ER, after both times came up empty but concerning, they set me up with a neurologist.  I hadn’t been able to get an appointment sooner than three months out, so they called and set me up an appointment for the next Monday. The doctor is a board-certified internist, neurologist, has an MD, an MPH, and half a dozen other certifications. I think he speaks like five languages too.

I walk into the doctor’s appointment that Monday afternoon to see my beautiful roommates had arrived before me and were lighting up the overly-stuffed waiting room chairs. I’ve got my medical binder full of records and transcripts and I am prepared. I’m not sure what I’m prepared for, but I am prepared.

So we go back to an examination room that looks more like an office with an exam table in it. It’s got wall-to-wall bookshelves, overflowing with books falling onto the floor. There are a couple of computers spread around a large wooden desk taking up the middle of the room.

I’m sitting on the exam table and my roommates and I are joking about everything in our surroundings when a portly older gentleman walks in with a thin, middle-aged woman. Both are wearing white coats and curious expressions. 

I stop laughing and pull out my binder to show the doctor. He starts asking me questions and has me run through my full medical history.

So of course, I use this as an opportunity to also run through all of my own jokes.

I’m pretty charming, and occasionally funny, and often hilarious. 

Over the past few years, to keep doctor appointments interesting, and to make doctors feel at ease, I use humor. For instance, anytime I referenced my rib removal, I joke that I asked the doctors to turn it into a boyfriend, but they said no. They wouldn’t even let me keep it, and like, it’s my rib. Or I joke about all the hairstyles I had to do after my brain surgery. I make jokes about my favorite narcotic drugs and how I tried to get a prescription for a hospital-only drug by promising the pharmacist I wouldn’t tell anyone (even though that’s a crime). I joke as I ask if my insurance covers a hot guy carrying my books across campus since I can’t wear a backpack. Seriously, we could do this all day. (And I have.)

I tease medical students and jokingly flirt with some medical techs. I use puns around dry doctors. I illicit head shaking and eye rolls from my parents. I do my best to enjoy myself and make others chuckle despite themselves.

And this appointment is no different.  

After my doctor finishes reading the transcript of my brain surgery out loud and goes through every doctor’s notes, he looks up at me and stares.  

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I joke that he’ll need an x-ray machine to assess the damage.  

He just looks at me and says, “I thought you’d be much older. You have the health history of an 80-year-old. And an abnormal 80-year-old at that.” 

I joke that I also have the habits of an 80-year-old, with the whole going to bed by 9:00pm thing I’ve got going on.

My roommates join in, quipping about the other habits I have similar to our geriatric friends.

The doctor looks around, makes eye contact with his medical resident, and looks back at me.  He pauses before saying, “I’d never expect you to have a personality. Day in and Day out, I see people with less than half of what you’ve had who never even lift their eyes from the ground, never even smile because they’ve lost all hope. But here you are. It’s amazing.”

I was pretty taken aback. I’d never been spoken to like this before.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Different doctors, different technicians, all telling me they were surprised by my attitude or my joy or my demeanor that they’d never seen its likeness in their offices.

I’m uncomfortable at first because I’m feeling abnormal – almost like I’m doing something wrong. I’m feeling uneasy because I don’t know how else I should behave.

I’m not sure where it comes from, but I do know I have a way of making humor make me relatable. Humor makes me at ease and makes uncomfortable interactions with doctors or nurses or techs just a little bit smoother.

I’m feeling free and easy when I’m making these jokes in these places with these people who don’t expect it but hopefully appreciate it.

In this appointment, with a new doctor, after a terrible weekend in the ER, I’m feeling hilarious as yet another joke gains a few laughs from my roommates and a grin from the medical resident.  

I’m feeling pretty darn funny.

And perhaps the strength of my smile can hold back threatening tears, and laughter is something we can share for a brief moment, so maybe the humor is just for me.

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