Lying back in the chair, with a mouth full of dental equipment, I tried to read my book.
The dental assistant asked what I was reading; showing her the cover, I said the name of the book as best as I could. “Why Evolution is True.”
She laughed a little too loudly, then said to let her know how it turned out.
“Tell me if I come from a monkey,” she said.
My first thought: “No, you didn’t come from a monkey. You and monkeys share an ancestor. Just like you didn’t come from your cousin, but you share an ancestor with your cousin.”
Of course, she also shares an ancestor (though a far less recent one) with the pink scum that sometimes grows on my bathroom tiles. But I didn’t think mentioning that fact would help matters.
It’s just that I felt ever so slightly vulnerable. She had all the power and hadn’t even started with the sharp metal nasties yet. Would she care at all about causing an infidel pain? Maybe she’d shrug: “You think this is bad? Just wait till you get to hell.”
Point is, I didn’t think that I was in the best position to present the case. It was better than trying to do so during a prostate exam, maybe, but not by much. And most people performing prostate exams have taken a lot of biology.
I punted. “Not with all this stuff in my mouth.” She let it slide. She probably didn’t want to explain to her boss why she was arguing religion with a patient (who, incidentally, was arguing science).
I’m surprised at the folks who believe in creationism, whether the old “the bible says it, so it’s true” flavor or the new “intelligent design” scam. Attempting to argue with these, or similar deluded souls, is futile at the best of times. BTW, you shouldn’t assume that her cousin isn’t also her ancestor.
From my perspective, a prostate exam isn’t nearly as bad as a dental visit. I’d skip both if they weren’t medically important, but the former is more awkward and embarrassing, while the latter tends to be painful. If the prostate exam seems unduly painful, check to see if the doctor has a hand on each shoulder—there may be an problem.
From the standpoint of vulnerability, I think the prostate exam beats the dentist. I don’t enjoy either one, of course.
It’s true that the dentist can be painful, but at least it takes a long time.
My doctor is a woman, so unless she’s using an add-on, I won’t worry too much about the two shoulders idea.
I don’t feel very vulnerable during a prostate exam, or the similar occult blood test. I *do* feel vulnerable when a doctor is doing the “turn your head and cough” bit, but that’s different.
I like that; it’s painful, but it takes a long time. Reminds me of the bit about “I’d rather be rich and well than poor and sick”.
Yeah, I think you’re safe with a female doc there. Outside the bad jokes, I don’t think you’d have much to worry about a male doc either, in that sense.
The last time I went to a dentist, it wasn’t as bad as I’d been used to. My previous dentist, and even more so her dental hygienist, usually left me with a very uncomfortable mouth. On the positive side, she had a kind of nervous tic. Very reassuring in someone who pokes around inside the mouth with sharp pointy bits. Between dental visits and chemo, my most unpleasant medical experiences have been in chairs. “Bring out the comfy chair!”
Heheh. My buddy’s brother-in-law is a doctor, and I did go to him once. We knew each other slightly, and I guess that was enough to make him giggle uncontrollably during the turn-your-head business.
That was it for me.
That would be a little strange. I guess it’s OK, though, as long as his giggling fit doesn’t make him suddenly clench his fist. I prefer my doctors not giggle when treating me—especially when handling my naughty bits.
Mainly, I wondered what was so hilarious. Could it my third testicle, which happens to be shaped like Jerry Seinfeld?