I've been thinking about this for a bit. Let's see, how to start.

I lead a different kind of life. A veeery interesting type of life. I realized that my last post might have nauseated a few of you, perhaps a little too late. Deepest apologies. But for me, faux pas topics are becoming old hat. And perhaps it's just as well, because I can remember a time were I was so uncomfortable by image issues, the topic of sex, even bowel habits that I'd blush at the mere mention of it. It wasn't so long ago that I stuttered out the words "Ppp-p-p-l-ease describe your f-f-f-feces" and now, without batting an eye, "let's talk about your poop."

A world of difference. PA school really breaks you of that... I can't think of another profession were you see your classmates in their birthday suit on a weekly basis for months on end, or worse, have them see the stretch marks, the spider veins, all the flaws that make the physical you. And guess who was the one who drew the short end of the stick and had to be the patient for breast examination week. And here I should give a mini shout out to Joe, my teacher. Huge thanks for the confidence boost.

side note, shells, I'm working in Killeen for a large company in central Texas called Scott and White, and I'm in family practice right now. I'm really starting to love it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that at I know I definitely teeter with the "what's appropriate" topic line. As much as my mom wanted me to be, I'm not Jackie O. But I am someone that if you have a question, no matter how gauche you think it is, I've got no problem helping you find all the facts you need to make an informed decision.

A bone to pick with the inventor of the Whiff Test

There are some things in my profession that is, how shall we say, unsavory. Digital Rectal Exams… I must raise a choice finger to the inventor of that. Examining a “rash” to find out it’s scabies… fun for the whole family! Well, one of the least favorite tests I encounter is The Whiff Test. Now you’ve got to assume that any test with the word “whiff” and talking about a bodily function is gonna activate the up-chuck reflex, much like when physicians of yore actually tasted urine for glucose. And I can’t emphasize how true this is.

Obviously an attack on a favored sense of mine, the whiff test forces the examiner to sniff a glass slide prepared with a woman’s discharge from her, as one of my patients called it a “cookie,” sprinkled with potassium hydroxide. Performing the baptism is said to cause a fishy odor to develop if the woman is indeed cursed with this disease. Somewhat less appealing than the marvel of the loaves and fishes, this modern day miracle points the way for the power to heal. At least 70% of the time.

So, dear inventor, my deepest gratitude for the daily assault on my olfactory nerve.