If you're around me for longer than two minutes, you know that I love to tell stories about my eccentric friends and family members. Renee was over on the farm a few weeks ago, and Momma was talking about my brother's mean rooster that has flogged about everyone in the family now (that rooster really does deserve to go in the frying pan). Renee said, "Oh, that rooster really is mean? I thought you just wrote that in your blog to be funny."
I am a people watcher; I always have been, and I find that real life is often much more amusing than fiction. I, of course, take creative liberties every once in a while. For example, in prior blogs, my dog, Fat Ashley, really didn't have a contact lens in her right eye, and Dan and I didn't magically disappear after slamming our fists together at Duggers (we simply walked out the door, as any red-blooded homosapiens would do). So, yes, the people in my life are REALLY that eccentric (and fun).
My favorite places to "people watch," besides around the people in my everyday life, are at night court (for obvious reasons) and at the doctor's office. I once sat down by a man that had a slight twitch in a crowded doctor's office. He had a cast on his arm. I asked what happened. Apparently, a TV had made him insufferably angry, and he put his fist through it. I wonder if that happens as often these days with so many people converting to LCD and plasma TVs? There's just not as much room in there now to get the "best" of the TV.
But, I know the "real" stories don't happen in the waiting room. They happen behind closed doors. Here are a couple of my own embarrassing medical stories:
An ex-boyfriend's mother works for my gynecologist, and she sees me naked once a year. She'll casually chat with me as the doctor is poking around on my breasts, and, well, other delicate areas. I always imagine her covertly calling her son after each visit and saying, "Hey, guess who I saw today . . . naked. Jenni; and let me tell you, time has NOT been a friend to those breasts of hers."
I have problems with my ears, especially when I fly. When I used to travel so much, I had a perpetual prescription to ear drops. I had an early morning flight to OR on this particular day. When my alarm clock went off at 4:00 a.m., I didn't want to wake my husband by turning on the lights, so I grabbed the ear drops on the night stand, unscrewed the cap, and poured the solution in my ear. The problem . . . it wasn't ear drops. I had grabbed some fingernail polish, also on my night stand. When I realized what I had done, I grabbed my suitcase and headed out the door in my PJs to the ER. The lady at the ER checking me in asked, "What's the problem today?" I told her that I had poured fingernail polish in my ear. She looked at me and said, "What did you say?" Since she didn't hear me properly, I said louder, "I poured fingernail polish in my ear." She quickly scampered away and came back with a nurse, who immediately got me a cot. It could have just been my imagination, but it seemed like a lot of staff members kept peeking around the curtain, giggling. When the ER doctor finally sashayed in, I spent about 20 minutes explaining why, in fact, I was sitting in an emergency room with fingernail polish in my ear. Luckily, the polish was quick drying polish, so it had not made it very far into my ear. I was treated with a Q-tip and fingernail polish remover.
I actually made my flight, although, I had on PJs with uncombed hair, still wearing a medical bracelet. I'm sure I looked like the escaped mental patient that I probably really should be. One more flew over the cuckoo's nest . . .
But, my favorite medical story is not my own. A friend used to work in the ER. Apparently, an old farmer was attaching a piece of equipment to his tractor. He saw a hole that looked JUST . . . THE . . . RIGHT . . . SIZE, and he became a bit randy. Fast forward a few hours, and both the farmer and farm equipment were sitting in the ER. Yep, his penis was stuck in the "hole." Now, being a farm girl, I can tell you that farm equipment is normally VERY heavy, so he probably had to have some "help" getting there, and I don't even want to think about them hauling him down the highway in the back of a truck bed. The things we miss by choosing a career outside of the medical field! See, real life . . . stranger and much more amusing than fiction.
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