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“Neither,” I reply.
“I’m sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Let me see….” He scrolls through the paperwork and then looks up at me. “Please lie back, I’m going to press on your stomach, and I want you to let me know if there is any pain associated with the pressure, okay?”
I lean back against the hospital bed, and he lifts up the front of the dressing gown. He begins pressing down along my stomach, and I wince a few times from the pressure, however nothing stands out as painful that warrants mentioning. He nods his head and then pulls the tablet out from the pocket of his lab coat.
“What would you categorize your caffeine consumption as?” he asks.
“Basically, stick an IV in me, and I’ll be a happy camper. I need caffeine to function. It would be preferred if I could have a minion make it for me every morning and make sure I’m attached to the IV before I even crawl out of bed,” I reply jokingly, but also with a hint of truth.
“Throughout the day or are you primarily a morning caffeine drinker?”
“It depends. I tend to drink it only in the morning. On some occasions, I will have a soda or another cup of coffee.”
“Headaches?” he asks.
“Occasionally.”
“What do you do for that?” he asks.
“Aleve. It’s the only thing that helps when my head hurts.”
“Are you taking that while on an empty stomach?”
“Off the top of my head, likely. But I can’t say for certain each time. Is that not okay?”
“Aleve is a medication that I would recommend taking with food. So, based upon all this information, I want to do a cocktail. It’s a twofer. I’m thinking there could be two different things going on here. I want to give you something for the pain to hopefully lessen the tightening that you are experiencing, but it may cause you a little drowsiness The other is designed for GI issues.”
“Like gas?” I ask.
“In that region somewhat. I’m suspecting that you may have the start of or already ruptured ulcers in your stomach.”
“And the tightness around my chest?” I ask.
“Your EKG is clear of a heart attack. Sometimes, we find that with GI issues, there’s a mention of tightness around the chest.” He stops and pulls out his pager and, with a frown, looks back up to me. “I have to check in on a trauma, but one of the nurses will be in to administer this. I’ll be back in a little bit.” His hand is warm on mine as he places it tenderly on me. He smiles, and then with one last lingering look, he leaves the small room.
I’m sure as shit glad that he didn’t ask me about how I poop. I mean I wouldn’t want him, Dr. McHottie, to know the color, consistency, and amount of times that I do it.
Nope. No poop talk with this doctor.
