Dribble Doctor (Blog 477)

Because of the medication I’m on, I dribble at night so I was told to visit the doctor to get some medication for that. I booked an appointment, but a few days later was told the visit was cancelled because the doctor was ill. The doctor needed to visit the doctor. I was then told I could visit a different doctor on the same day, but a little bit later on. After agreeing to the time, I was asked if seeing the other doctor was ok. I mean… why wouldn’t it be? Was it assumed there are some doctors I refuse to talk to? Is that normal? If so, when did society become so entitled? Was I expected to say something like ‘No, I will not be talking to Doctor (whatever his name is). Good day. Now I will be expecting a written apology.’ What an asshole. Before leaving for the health centre, I had two cups of water because I wanted to give a urine sample as well, as sometimes it stings just a bit when I pee. I think that’s because of occasional dehydration, but I wanted to be sure.

When driving to the doc, I put my Satnav on, but for whatever reason it told me to go in a weird, pointless direction that was over twice as long. I was hoping the device would correct itself as I drove in the more logical direction, but it kept telling me to go back! What do I do? I can’t remember the way, it’s at LEAST 3 miles away. I’ve also visited the place well under a thousand times. I pulled over and entered the directions again in the hope the Satnav would realise the error of its ways, and… it did! And no, I didn’t put in the wrong directions beforehand. -_- I arrived at the doctor’s about 20 minutes early despite all the drama and was seen about 15 minutes early! What a guy. For whatever reason I was given a general health checkup that had nothing to do with dribbling, but luckily I was told my health was perfect! Perfect blood pressure, perfect temperature, etc. I liked that very, very much.

Not only that, I was called a gentleman! Sure the word ‘gentleman’ is very subjective, some people consider people who don’t get arrested and scream at the police to be gentlemen, whereas most people perceive such people as simply being normal. Even so, I took the compliment. Things weren’t perfect though, it was assumed I had no friends and was told to go to a nearby place where people get together to play tennis. An interesting idea, but no. After a long discussion, I was told that medications that stop dribbling come with some really annoying side effects and it would probably be best if I didn’t take them. Argh! I was told to visit the doc to get the meds and was told there would be no side effects! I explained that to the guy and was then told he would write a letter to the local hospital explaining my situation, and hopefully there would be meds that would suit me.

How was my pee? Even thought I drunk a fair bit earlier on, I couldn’t go! After a couple of minutes I gave the smallest sample known to man, barely anything at all, but was told that didn’t matter… My pee was perfect! Nothing wrong with me at all, great stuff. I’ve never done any drugs or anything like that so I really shouldn’t be infected with anything, but judging by my behaviour, some people ASSUME I’m on drugs and maybe subconsciously that’s what caused my hypochondria. Who knows? Despite frequent sugar wigouts my blood sugar was found to be normal, so yeah, a good checkup. A little bit annoying as now I’ll have to go to hospital to see another doctor AND continue dribbling at least for now, but if I were to rate the experience on a scale of one to ten, one being diagnosed with a rare terminal illness and ten being told I will be the next Usain Bolt, I’d give it a solid 7.5/10! Bye!