Some Things Should Just Be Private

I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday morning. It was a six month check-up. The doctor asked me if I had any complaints. I told him the only thing wrong with me is my “thingy” doesn’t work as well as it once did.

He asked me if I was experiencing depression. I told him I was not depressed at all. He then asked me if I was suffering from anxiety. I replied that I was anxious about nothing. The good doctor then told me that he needed to check my testosterone. I was thinking if that is anything like the time he checked my prostate, I would pass this time. He went on to say that he would have to send me to another location to get some blood work done.

He then told me he would give me some drug samples for me to try. He told me that there are a few potential side effects. He said I could experience headaches. And I could experience a stopped-up nose. I couldn’t help but noticed he sniffed pretty hard when he said that.

Next thing I knew he gave me a form to take to the front office. His diagnosis was written in bold letters across the top of the page. I cringed when I saw it.

SEXUAL MALFUNCTION.

I had to hand the form with the dreaded indictment to the receptionist. There were several other ladies behind the counter as well. I think they felt sorry for me. I wanted to ask them if I would get a button to wear or maybe a bumper sticker for my car so others could recognize my diagnosis. I wondered if this would be in the morning paper.


I paid the bill and then drove over to the place where I had to get the blood work. I had to hand the same form over to another group of ladies. I just quietly let one of the ladies draw the blood from my arm. But when we were discussing some mutual friends, I couldn’t help but wonder if this nice lady would tell our mutual friends about my diagnosis which was still boldly written across the top of the form.

When I left that lab I thought about driving by the Drivers License place to see if I could get a Handicapped Parking sticker. I also thought about checking on the room rates at a nursing home I drove by.

I guess things just go downhill (no pun intended) when you get in your fifties. All I did yesterday was go to the doctor for a six month checkup. He asked me how I was doing and I told him. Next time I’ll just ask him if he has anything that would give me a headache and a stopped up nose. I suppose he would prescribe the same medicine but without the diagnosis.

And another thing. They should come up with another name instead of Sexual Malfunction. That sounds like you need emergency surgery. If not, surely they could put the diagnosis in the small disclaimer information at the bottom of the page so the world won’t see it.

Some things should just be private.