The missile struck me on the morning of May 18, 2010, in a hospital examination room in the presence of two people I had never met before.
But first a little background about how I got there.
It’s late March 2010. Since my 40th birthday I had been disciplined about going for my annual physical, and I had one coming up in early May. For the third time since January, I noticed I had some blood on the toilet paper after having a bowel movement. I called Dr. A, my fabulous family doctor, to report the problem and she said if it happens again come in right away, otherwise let’s have a look during your physical. Fine. Months later I would realize my body had given me a signal years earlier but I failed notice. That’s for another post though.
The physical came and Dr. A examined me as I laid there somewhat horrified, but I’d later look back and laugh at this episode as the least flagrant violation of my dignity.
“Everything looks OK, but let’s have specialist Dr. B take a look anyway. Maybe it’s a hemorrhoid or fissure or something and he can give it a little freezing and away you [...] continue the story