The Snotty Doctor

Yes, I finally realized I wasn’t going to kick this head cold/sinus infection/allergy/bronchitis shit with Mucinex and Zicam. I went to the doctor today. I fit nicely into the chorus of coughs and sniffing in the waiting room.

Finally, into the exam room where the blood pressure machine malfunctions and my arm is squeezed three times. Amazingly after all that, my blood pressure was fine. I had a fine nurse who was really apologetic about it all.

Then, in walks the doctor who stands directly in front of me and stares directly into my eyes and says, “I’m so sick of snot.” Then he told me that it wasn’t all bad because at least he knew what to do. We then had a truly disgusting conversation about the volume, consistency, and coloration of my particular snot. We actually discuss, with no seriousness whatsoever, the palate of snot and what sort of artwork it could be the medium for.

I was one of the more interesting snot patients he’d had that day (or so he told me) in that I had two segregated colors of snot. I really think he was just humoring me because I laughed at his snot jokes. He made up his mind what I needed — a snot shot and two snot pills, one for the obvious infection and one for the accompanying allergy.

The worst part of this visit was that every time I laughed, I broke into a spasm of coughing. This continued all the way home as I contemplated the gallery opening of the Snotty Series, A Study in Natural Media.