My all-time favorite sexual complaint
I came to the office one sweltering summers day to find Jabba the Hutt perspiring profusely in the waiting room, waiting to see me as a new patient.
And not bothering to use one of my color-coordinated designer chairs. Enormous buttocks were planted firmly on my deep pile carpet. (I was comforted by the thought that there was a concrete slab immediately beneath.)
And not bothering to use one of my color-coordinated designer chairs. Enormous buttocks were planted firmly on my deep pile carpet. (I was comforted by the thought that there was a concrete slab immediately beneath.)
Back then I was in my early "deluxe" phase, and had an office that I hoped would some day make it into Architecture Digest.
Limited edition prints on the walls, piped-in satellite music, a kids area built like a pirate ship...
And deliriously comfy chairs, each of which cost me more than my first vehicle. But her Huttness plunked her butt unabashedly in the middle of the waiting room floor. Glaring in all directions, and clutching her voluminous medical file.
Limited edition prints on the walls, piped-in satellite music, a kids area built like a pirate ship...
And deliriously comfy chairs, each of which cost me more than my first vehicle. But her Huttness plunked her butt unabashedly in the middle of the waiting room floor. Glaring in all directions, and clutching her voluminous medical file.
She had been to 11 previous physicians, and according to her every single one of them had been sexually inappropriate with her in some way. I found this curious, because I knew about half of them. And none of them were nearly interesting enough for such shenanigans.
I was exactly the wrong sort of doctor for her. I was young, single, had an Irish sense of humor, and was somewhat disinhibited.
Such as - because of an August heat wave - I had taken to wearing khaki shorts and a golf shirt to the office each day.
Such as - because of an August heat wave - I had taken to wearing khaki shorts and a golf shirt to the office each day.
But I got curious...
Against my better judgement, I decided to flip through her old files. And the woman genuinely had problems. Perhaps not exactly the ones she thought she had, but she definitely needed some help...
I ordered a whack of tests, tried a few treatments, and then decided it was time to send her to a specialist. I sent her to the most OCD physician I had ever met. (He once sent me a 27 page consult on a patient with tennis elbow.) Plus he had the addition benefits of being in a permanent body cast, and his receptionist was his wife.
I ordered a whack of tests, tried a few treatments, and then decided it was time to send her to a specialist. I sent her to the most OCD physician I had ever met. (He once sent me a 27 page consult on a patient with tennis elbow.) Plus he had the addition benefits of being in a permanent body cast, and his receptionist was his wife.
We fixed her!!!
With the combined ministrations of "Dr. Body-Cast" and myself, Jabba soon lumbered off into the void feeling significantly improved. And I thought that was the end of it. Until the letter came....
It was from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of B.C.
It was from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of B.C.
"The Letter"
The letter described how Dr. Body-Cast and I had helped her significantly.
And - unlike her previous 11 physicians - neither one of us had taken sexual advantage of her. But she mentioned that I wore khaki shorts in the office, and occasionally my penis hung down below the cuffs. And while she didn't actually mind that herself, she thought the College should mention it to me. Because some folks might consider it unprofessional!
I posted that letter on the bulletin board in our coffee room for months. Until the receptionists got annoyed, and hid it on me!
And - unlike her previous 11 physicians - neither one of us had taken sexual advantage of her. But she mentioned that I wore khaki shorts in the office, and occasionally my penis hung down below the cuffs. And while she didn't actually mind that herself, she thought the College should mention it to me. Because some folks might consider it unprofessional!
I posted that letter on the bulletin board in our coffee room for months. Until the receptionists got annoyed, and hid it on me!