Brief Annotated Highlights From My Online Medical Record

I recently underwent a CAT scan, MRI, surgery and numerous physical therapy appointments as the result of youthful exuberance at the gym. While the medical care has been nothing short of sterling, I have found numerous entries in my online record that bear examining:

While this is true, the phrasing makes it sound like I came in with a laundry list of grievances and tossed off “Shoulder Pain” as an afterthought:

“Hello Doctor. I’m concerned about the annual fees on my 401K. Also, I wonder whether my cat’s morning vomiting is a problem. Moreover, I can’t remember if I cleaned off my golf clubs last Fall. Oh, and come to think of it, I have excruciating pain from my neck down to my testicles when I button my shirt.”

Technically true, but a little fancy-pants for my britches. While we’re throwing around highfalutin’ medical terms I should point out that I also have a past medical history of Foot from the athlete, Pox from the chicken and Running from the nose.

The word “indicated” makes it sound like I might be lying. I called my mother this weekend and shouted “Leading indicators point to you being alive!” and then hung up. I have not yet checked in with my father or brother to see if my indications were correct.

I believe this is either a short joke, or, unbeknownst to me, I’m a hunchback. Googling for medical clarification.

Check out those healthy vitals. Solid blood pressure. Good pulse. Normal temperature and respiration and … HEY, WAIT A SECOND? Why you gotta hate on my hairline? I’m acutely distressed by that.

I wasn’t just alert and oriented at this appointment, I was alert and oriented TIMES FOUR! I literally broke the Alert and Oriented Scale™. This is what happens when you drink a caffeine-laced energy beverage before going in for physical therapy. “I HAVE APPROPRIATE MOOD AND AFFECT AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME,” I shouted, before taking my pants off over my head.

Let me translate the Latin here: My head is “atraumatic,” i.e. it has not suffered any trauma. And “normocephalic,” i.e. it looks normal for a cuttlefish penis.

MY NOSE IS AS CLEAR AS THAT OF AN EGYPTIAN GOD! Also, it is not grossly deformed. My Tinder profile is just writing itself.

“He swept her into his arms and carried her through the door, using his adequate strength to maneuver her awkwardly onto the bed, like a mouse trying to roll a Vienna sausage over the lip of a wastebasket. She reached up and pulled him close, her breath quickening at the suppleness of his neck.”

Translation: Not a teenager. Not undead.

And 4 out of 5 on speed. Then he rolled a 20 and got attacked by a Gelatinous Cube and a Beholder. Luckily, he had four hit points and used his invisibility cloak to escape the cave by stealing fire from a goblin.

(Half the people reading the previous paragraph have no idea what the *$%^&$#%@# I’m talking about, half know that I have no idea what the *$%^&$#%@# I’m talking about. And half just stopped reading altogether so they could go to Facebook and look at videos of otters eating snacks.)

I don’t think anything in my life has ever been described as “exquisitely positive” before, so it’s pretty rewarding to have aced the O’Brien’s test, whatever that was. I presume it involved a skillet of potatoes. Can’t wait for next year’s Tater Tot exam. I totally agree about Shields and Yarnell being equivocal, FWIW. I never did get them.

A fancy way of indicating that I know how to say “Frontside” and “Backside” in multiple languages. For instance, Italian: “Pianissimo” and “Buttafuoco.” You’re welcome.

What’chu talkin’ ‘bout?